The Mysterious Warrior
by DebsTheSlytherinSnapefan
Summary: The Chamber of Secrets went much differently when Tom Riddle decided he wanted Harry for himself. What will become of it? What will Dumbledore do when his defender is no longer controllable by him? What will the magical world do with a confident Harry Potter who becomes aware of his own power and position? Tom/Harry BDSM Sub-Harry/Dom-Tom. Who is the mysterious warrior?
1. Chapter 1

The Mysterious Warrior

Yes most of this chapter IS from the book - Chamber of Secrets - BUT this is where the deviation begins SO I had to begin somewhere and I am quite happy to start here. I'm not the only person to implement parts of the books into stories and I'm sorry if you find it lazy or uninspiring it's your decision whether to read it or not I'm not going to force the issue.

This story will contain BDSM between Tom/Harry in this story DomTom! and of course subHarry. If this sort of thing doesn't do it for you please do not read.

It may contain underage Harry, BUT not by much I don't really write underage Harry normally and he will be fully consenting. Someone asked for a similar story to willing, but with Tom/Harry... obviously it won't be the same but this is the idea that came to me.

As always I do not own anything from the Harry Potter universe!

ALL 5 CHAPTERS HAVE BEEN EDITED - NOW CHAPTER 5 WILL NOT BE REPLACED UNTIL TOMORROW AFTER ITS BEEN EDITED!

Chapter 1

* * *

"What about my sister?" Ron asked jerkily.

"Well, as to that ― most unfortunate," Lockhart said, avoiding their eyes, wrenching open drawers and emptying the contents into a bag. "No one regrets more than I ―"

"You're the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher!" Harry protested. "You can't go now! Not with all the dark stuff going on here!"

"Well, I must say… when I took the job…" Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes, "nothing in the job description … didn't expect…"

"You mean you're running away?" Harry demanded disbelievingly. "After all that stuff in your books?" oh, he suspected the bumbling idiot hadn't done anything even remotely close to what he wrote about, but he had a part to play and play it he would.

"Books can be misleading," Lockhart said delicately.

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted he was a bigger idiot than Harry had given him credit for, imagine admitting he had misled everyone it was as good as saying he had made it up.

"My dear boy," Lockhart said, causing older Harry to grimace at the title; Dumbledore called him that and he hated the phrase. "Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think I'd done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin. I mean, come on…"

"So you've just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?" Harry asked angrily, to have gotten away with it, he must have done something terrible, either they were dead or he'd found a way to keep them quiet using magic. Harry wasn't sure which one he preferred, too bad Ron was here, otherwise, he would have made Lockhart's life a living hell, repaid the man for all he'd done. Or he wished he could really, unfortunately, he wasn't knowledgeable on a lot of magic yet, he couldn't risk going through the books he really wanted to in the library, too public, he was trying though, he went there during the night with his cloak and read what he could. He was nowhere near as advanced as he wished he was. He had a lot of catching up to do to compete with any pureblood.

"Harry, Harry," Lockhart sighed, shaking his head impatiently "It's not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's my Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of work, Harry. It's not all book-signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame; you have to be prepared for a long hard slog."

Harry narrowed his eyes in displeasure, so that's how the bastard had done what he did, well at least he hadn't murdered them he supposed. Didn't stop Harry's thirst to teach the smug bastard a lesson. He would need to be careful though, he did not want Lockhart playing with his mind and removing his memories...it seems to be his go to.

He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.

"Let's see," he said. "I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing left."

He pulled out his wand and turned on them.

"Awfully sorry, boys, but I'll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can't have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. I'd never sell another book…"

Harry had been prepared for it, it was disappointingly _obvious_. Lockhart had barely raised his, when Harry bellowed, " _Expelliarmus!_ "

Lockhart was blasted backwards, falling over his trunk. His wand flew high into the air; Ron caught it and flung it out of the open window.

"Shouldn't have let Professor Snape teach us that one," Harry said furiously, kicking Lockhart's trunk aside. Lockhart was looking up at him, wary once more. Harry was still pointing his wand at him. Sensing the darkness in Harry Potter that nobody else had yet.

"What d'you want me to do?" Lockhart protested weakly. "I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There's nothing I can do."

"You're in luck," Harry said, forcing Lockhart to his feet at wand point. "We think we know where it is. And what's inside it. Let's go."

* * *

 **Chamber Of Secret entrance - Girls Bathroom - Hogwarts**

"Harry," Ron suggested, "Say something. Something in Parseltongue."

"But―" Harry broke off.

"Open up," he said.

"English," Ron said, shaking his head.

"Open up," Harry hissed.

The sink began moving; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight. It left a large pipe exposed a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

"I'm going down there," Harry declared.

"Me too," Ron volunteered.

"Well, you hardly seem to need me," Lockhart said with a shadow of a smile. "I'll just ―"

"You can go first," Ron snarled.

White-faced and Wandless, Lockhart approached the opening.

"Boys," he said his voice feeble, "Boys, what good will it do?"

Harry jabbed him in the back with his wand. Lockhart slid his legs into the mouth of the pipe.

"I really don't think ―" he started to say, but Ron gave him a push, and he slid out of sight. Harry followed quickly. He lowered himself slowly into the pipe, then let go.

"We must be miles under the school," Harry commented, his voice echoing in the black tunnel.

"Under the lake, probably," Ron said, squinting around at the dark, slimy walls.

"Lumos!" Harry muttered to his wand, and it lit again. "C'mon," he said to Ron and Lockhart, and off they went, their footsteps slapping loudly on the wet floor.

"Remember," Harry said quietly, as they walked cautiously forward, "Any sign of movement, close your eyes straight away…"

"Harry, there's something up there…" Ron said hoarsely.

"Maybe it's asleep," he breathed back at the other two.

"Blimey," Ron gasped weakly, suddenly there was a commotion, and Lockhart had Ron's broken wand.

"The adventure ends here, boys!" he said. "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and you two tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body. Say goodbye to your memories! _Obliviate!_ " he added in a shout.

The wand exploded with the force of a small bomb. Harry flung his arms over his head and ran, slipping over the coils of snakeskin, out of the way of great chunks of tunnel ceiling which were thundering to the floor. The next moment he was standing alone, gazing at a solid wall of broken rock.

"Ron!" he shouted. "Are you okay? Ron!" he had to be alive, had to be awake otherwise he was going to be stuck down here with no way out.

"I'm here!" Ron shouted back, his voice muffled through the rock. "I'm okay. This git's not, though ― he got blasted by the wand. What now?" Ron's voice sounded desperate. "We can't get through; it'll take ages…"

"Wait there," Harry called to Ron. "Wait with Lockhart. I'll go on. If I'm not back in an hour…"

There was silence for ages after that.

"I'll try and shift some of this rock," Ron said; he seemed to be trying to keep his voice steady. "So you can ― can get back through. And, Harry ―"

"See you in a bit," Harry said, straightening his spine, at least he wasn't going to have to watch his back around Lockhart for the rest of the night.

Harry continued on, almost wishing there wasn't a huge snake roaming around here, otherwise he would have loved to properly investigate. This was Salazar Slytherin's secret domain for Merlin's sake, how awesome was this? His musings were cut short when he saw the red-headed girl lying on the floor.

"Ginny!" Harry muttered, sprinting to her and dropping to his knees. "Ginny! Don't be dead! Please don't be dead!" He flung his wand aside, grabbed Ginny's shoulders and turned her over. Her face was white as marble and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn't Petrified. But then she must be…Merlin, no, please not dead, he couldn't go back to the Dursley's full time again. He'd rather run away than allow that to happen, and the prospect of living on the streets wasn't all that appealing especially after being at Hogwarts. His own double bed, warmth, all the food he wanted to eat, and more importantly pain-free.

"Ginny, please wake up," Harry muttered desperately, shaking her. Ginny's head lolled hopelessly from side to side making Harry feel extremely frustrated and angry.

"She won't wake up," said a soft voice, watching Harry closely, becoming increasingly annoyed at the fact the boy was paying so much attention to the useless girl, this was the one who defeated him? He who wasn't even aware of his surroundings?

"Tom ― Tom Riddle?"

"What d'you mean, she won't wake?" Harry asked desperately "She's not ... she's not..." He was unable to form the sentence.

"She's still alive," Riddle said, "but only just." Hearing his name usually left a foul taste in his throat…but coming from Harry it was somewhat adorable at how utterly naive he was. How had he gotten the better of his older self?

"Are you a ghost?" Harry asked uncertainly, wishing he was more experienced with magical matters.

"A Memory," Riddle said quietly, "preserved in a diary for fifty years."

"You've got to help me, Tom," Harry said, raising Ginny's head again. "We've got to get her out of here. There's a Basilisk… I don't know where it is, but it could be along any moment. Please, help me…" 'Save Hogwarts from closing down' went unsaid.

Tom did nothing other than bend over and pick up Harry's wand, which suited him very well, there was something familiar about the wand but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Thanks," Harry said, stretching out his hand for his wand, inwardly cursing himself for dropping it in the first place...especially when he knew there was a basilisk around.

"Listen," Harry said urgently, his knees sagging with Ginny's dead weight, "we've got to go! If the Basilisk comes…"

"It won't come until it's called," Riddle said calmly.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked suspicion gnawing at him. "Look, give me my wand, I might need it."

"You won't be needing it," Tom said.

"What d'you mean, I won't be ―?"

"I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter," Riddle said. "For a chance to see you. To speak to you."

"Look," Harry said, losing his patience, "I don't think you get it. We're in the Chamber of Secrets. We can talk later."

"We're going to talk now," Riddle declared, as he pocketed Harry's wand.

"How did Ginny get like this?" Harry asked finally, his green eyes beginning to comprehend the even bigger picture.

"Well, that's an interesting question," Riddle said pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked in exasperation, was something like that possible?

"The diary," Riddle said, "My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes: how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with second-hand robes and books, how ―" Riddle's eyes glinted "―How she didn't think her famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her…" which of course she wasn't.

All the time he spoke, Riddle's eyes never left Harry's face. There was a hungry look in them.

"It was very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back; I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. 'No one's ever understood me like you, Tom… I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in… it's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket'…" Riddle laughed.

"If I do say so myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring my soul back into her…"

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked; his mouth had gone very dry.

"Haven't you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" Riddle asked softly. "Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's cat."

"No," whispered Harry.

"Yes," Riddle calmly said. "Of course, she didn't know what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries… far more interesting, they became… 'Losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint on myself. I think he suspects me… there was another attack today; I'm going mad… think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!'"

"It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary," Riddle said, "But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet…"

"And why did you want to meet me?" Harry asked, anger coursing through him, showing in those glowing emerald eyes, so Hogwarts nearly closing was _his_ fault.

"Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry," Riddle replied. "Your whole fascinating history." Riddle's eyes shot straight to his lightning bolt scar and his expression grew hungrier. "I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, and meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust."

"Hagrid is my friend," Harry said, his voice now shaking, a friend was pushing it but nobody had to know that. "And you framed him, didn't you?"

Riddle laughed again.

"It was my word against Hagrid's, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student; on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls. But I admit even I was surprised at how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realize Hagrid couldn't possibly be the heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance… as though Hagrid had the brains or the power! Not to mention the spider couldn't possibly have killed anything let alone the Mudblood."

"Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid here and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did…"

"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you," Harry said, his teeth gritted, his mind spinning, he couldn't let Hogwarts close down, he couldn't go back to the Dursley's he just couldn't. This was why he kept up his pretence, so Dumbledore didn't see the real him, just the picture he painted of himself.

"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," Riddle carelessly said. "I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn't going to waste those long years I'd spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"Well, you haven't finished it," Harry told him triumphantly "No one's died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready, and everyone who was petrified will be all right again." and hopefully Hogwarts would remain open.

"Haven't I already told you," Riddle quietly said, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been... you. Imagine how angry I was when next time my diary opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who'd been strangling the roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery... particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue…"

Harry pursed his lips; he had been tricked yet again into fighting a war that he had no desire to partake in.

"So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became very boring. But there isn't much life left in her: she put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last. I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter."

"Like what?" Harry spat nastily.

"Well," Riddle said, still smiling pleasantly, "How is it that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

"Why do you care how I escaped?" Harry slowly asked. "Voldemort was after your time."

"Voldemort," said Riddle, "is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter." Shimmering words were quickly traced through the air.

 **TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE**

Tom waved the wand once and the letters rearranged themselves.

 **I AM LORD VOLDEMORT**

"You see?" he whispered "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts— to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak when I became the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

"Ginny told you about me…so does that mean you don't remember anything past being sixteen? You don't know why you came after me?" Harry asked, gazing curious at the figure before him. Still holding the cold dying form of Ginny Weasley in his arms. His burning curiosity and a desire for information gleaming from his green eyes. He so badly wanted to know why Voldemort had come after him, Dumbledore had just been his usual cryptic self.

"Dumbledore didn't tell his great defender?" Tom said in a mere whisper, he had hoped to get an answer but it looked as though he wouldn't. He had desired to kill the boy who had caused his downfall, but that desire had faded the more he learned about Harry Potter.

Harry's brow furrowed, "No, he doesn't tell me anything, he set everything up last year so that we would meet…" he admitted, trying to buy himself some time to think of the best way out of this situation. Moving just slightly, but the teenager version of Voldemort's eyes narrowed on him further at his movement.

"So eager to leave, Harry Potter?" Tom asked, still eyeing Harry hungrily. "Shall I end this now?"

Harry gritted his teeth, "Stop this, please, I can't…can't let Hogwarts be closed down," not above pleading…he'd do anything for Hogwarts to remain open.

Tom moved over until he was boring down at the twelve-year-old, quite relishing in the position, "Do you like the girl that much?" jealousy squirming like a living thing in the pit of his stomach. Harry was _his_. His to do as he pleased, whether it was to kill or torment.

Harry stared perplexed by the question, "Yes, she's my best friends, little sister," he answered, not truly understanding the underlying question.

"That's not the real reason though is it, Pet?" Tom said, eyes gleaming avariciously, "You just don't want Hogwarts to be closed down," had Dumbledore truly let his little defender be abused just like he had left him at the orphanage? This he knew he could use to his advantage. There was more to Harry than met the eye, he wanted to uncover each and every secret. He had to know why his future self-had decided to go after him before he made any decisions. Harry seemed bewildered at the pet name, _innocent_ , _pure_ , someone he could mold…cherish, protect, and in turn, he would desire to protect _him_. Even against Dumbledore, completely obliterating any plans the old fool had up his sleeve. Unfortunately, it meant that Miss Weasley would survive, but he was getting the better end of the bargain.

Harry gritted his teeth at the feeling of uselessness and anger consuming him.

"I'll give you one opportunity to save the girl and Hogwarts…one chance," Tom said, crouching down to get a better look at Harry, soon, very soon, he would be his completely if he had his way and considering how desperate he was to save the school Tom knew he would accept it no matter the consequences in the future. He wanted to sneer at the hopeful look on his face, wondering if it was feigned or if he truly was the Gryffindor he seemed to be…but Tom had a feeling it wasn't what he seemed and his feelings were never wrong.

Harry backed away a little at the closeness of Tom; the only time anyone came close to him was to hurt him so it was instinctive. "How?" he uttered suspiciously.

"You swear an oath on your magic to give an item to Lucius Malfoy; you must give it to him in his hand," Tom stated his tone serious, there were plenty of ways in which he could be brought back, all he needed was a soul; he could simply make sure that Malfoy did as he instructed which he would if he was anything like Abraxas. It was the only Death Eater he knew was on the outside, the only one Ginny Weasley had named. He hated the name given to his knights but needs a must. "When I approach you again you must promise to do the one thing I ask."

Harry swallowed thickly, his mind conjuring up the most horrific things he could be asked to do.

"The offer is for a very limited time," Tom informed him, before adding softly, "I'm afraid Miss Weasley doesn't have much longer."

"Fine, I'll do it," Harry murmured in defeat, he could see no other way out of this situation with Hogwarts remaining open to him. The chances of him seeing Tom like this again was slim to nothing…he had no idea where he lived and surely Voldemort wouldn't try and get him at Hogwarts again he was afraid of Dumbledore.

Smirking triumphantly Tom made up the terms of the magical oath, and both of them swore on their magic however, reluctantly it was on Harry's part. The diary now safe from Harry's destruction by means of the oath was placed in his hands from where it had lain discarded by Ginny Weasley's side. Tom then gave him instructions on what to do and say to Malfoy.

"Obliviate!" Tom chanted at the unconscious female, making her forget everything about the diary.

Tom began to glow until he was obscured from view, Harry's vision was blinded until the light faded away, Tom was gone, and Ginny began to gasp for breath at the same exact second. Swallowing thickly, Harry slid the diary into his pocket so Ginny didn't see.

His heart pounded away like a drum, wondering what he had done…what he had been thinking so much so that he was not listening to Ginny cry and apologize knowing instinctively she was to blame for being down here despite not remembering. How the hell was he supposed to get out of this situation?

"We need to get out of here, come on," Harry said, getting both of them up off the wet floor, even as they walked Harry still felt as though he'd done something really, really wrong.

Harry didn't know it yet, but he would soon be thankful for it for like was about to take an unexpected turn.

* * *

I've edited this story a little since people are quite confused as to what year it is etc... so I'm going to make it a little easier to follow at least I hope so! R&R


	2. Chapter 2

The Mysterious Warrior

Chapter 2

* * *

To say he had been utterly stunned when Potter had approached him with the diary would be putting it mildly. In his haste to deny it, he had handed it to his servant only to lose Dobby to the brat. He had been furious, after the incident he'd come aware of a letter wedged inside of the diary. He had been sorely tempted to throw it away, but he had not, the writing wasn't that of an eleven-year-old Muggle-raised boy. Upon returning to his Manor, minus his pride and a servant he had opened it only to feel dread, fear and excitement course through him. He'd had a way to ensure his Lord's return for the past ten years without realizing it. Of course, he had kept his ears and eyes open for any sign, while in the Ministry but nothing, nary a whisper of his return.

He hadn't hesitated in carrying out his Lord's orders, although how he had written the letter, why it had been given to Potter to give to him he had no idea. He wouldn't get his answers, at least not unless his Lord felt like sharing. The chance of that was a fine thing, the Dark Lord had become extremely secretive, and madness had set in, and fuelled by obsession he had become closed off. To see such a powerful, highly respected wizard turn that way had been heartbreaking to see. He still held a great deal of respect for his Lord, but fear usually overpowered that, towards the end, nothing had satisfied him, even his elite had not been spared his wrath.

It had been a very anxious year for him; he had spent a lot of time within the Ministry of magic just to be on the safe side. So, he would know in advance if the likes of Arthur Weasley decided upon raiding his home for 'dark artifacts' like he had done over a year ago, not something he could allow to happen when the Dark Lord was in the process of returning. He had been warned it was a lengthy process, which would have been fine with him if not for the constant hyper-vigilance he was experiencing. The constant urge to looking over his shoulder had been extremely distracting and annoying for the usually smug confident wizard.

And so it was, on the first of July 1994, that the Dark Lord returned to corporeal form in Malfoy Manor.

"My Lord," Lucius whispered reverently, automatically going to his knees and bowing before him. Reeling from the fact he looked only a couple of years older than his son - his thirteen years old son who was soon to return from his third year at Hogwarts -, and he was bowing before him, in his own home. Fortunately, his sense of self-preservation was at an all-time high and didn't hesitate for a second.

"Lucius," the dulcet tone making Lucius' hair prickle at the back of his neck. "You may stand," he added his tone smug and superior. The dark eyes gazed intently at the wizard now standing opposite him; he was very much Abraxas' double, down to his eyes, which were appropriately averted.

"Yes, My Lord," Lucius said demurely. The robes he had left out for the Dark Lord seem to fit him perfectly; he had made a good choice, that would only bode well for his continued health.

"Am I to assume since he is not here that Abraxas is gone?" his tone didn't change, as he continued to demand answers from the wizard and he had a lot of questions he wanted answers. Ginny Weasley had been sorely lacking in every way when it came to information. Fortunately for him, she had known at least about Lucius otherwise he would not have been able to take this measure to return.

Lucius swallowed thickly, "Yes, My Lord, over a decade ago, Dragon Pox," he explained. His mother had died when he was young, he'd only ever had his father, and had been devastated when he died, all the money in the world hadn't been enough to elongate his father's life or save him from the disease. He hadn't survived to see the birth of his grandson, but he had known Narcissa was pregnant and he had been ever so pleased. The fact the Dark Lord was asking this meant he didn't have the memories of his older self which was curious indeed, what else couldn't he remember?

"My condolences," Tom informed him, his voice didn't change in terms of coldness, but it did lose its edge a little. Abraxas had been a good man, and from what he remembered he had been extremely loyal. Was there any of his original knights left? Anyone, he could honestly say he recognized and had interacted with?

Lucius had to hold back the choke of shock that wanted to leave his throat. The Dark Lord had never expressed his condolences before, not when anyone died. His father had often commented that the Dark wizard they saw before them hadn't always been that way. That he had been charming, charismatic wanted to change things politically and only became more drastic because of Dumbledore. He had changed when he disappeared for the second time, traveling the world learning new magicks. For the first time in his life, he was actually beginning to believe his father's words. "Thank you, My Lord," he managed to utter out of sheer willpower.

"I assume since I am here, that Harry successfully managed to find you?" Tom asked imperiously.

Lucius' eyes widened a little, he was calling him Harry? "He did," some of his resentment bleeding into his voice, a big mistake as the Dark Lord pounced on it, his mind was evaded showing the memory of what had happened like a hot knife slipping through butter. He made no attempts to close his mind to the intrusion knowing it would just mean more pain in the long run.

Lucius came back to himself; out of the memory, the Dark Lord had just forced him to watch. He found himself on his knees, panting just a little, no matter how often this was done to him it still disorientated him to the point he always ended up on his knees. What he did realize was that his power was stronger than he'd ever felt it before which baffled him to the core. He was also doing it _without_ a _wand_. He'd never seen the Dark Lord Use magic without his wand on his person before.

Tom felt a smug smirk tugging at his lips, his little Slytherin masquerading as a Gryffindor, managing to get one over Lucius Malfoy, free the House-elf and do the task he had sworn to do in one fell swoop. Yes, he was even surer now that there was more to Harry than met the eye than ever before. He looked forward to upholding the other end of the oath, but he had much to do first, not including getting every piece of information possible from Lucius. He had a feeling his little conquest was going to be extremely difficult to tame. He would definitely enjoy every moment of turning him completely.

"Lunch is available, My Lord, we can eat in the dining room or my office if you wish?" Lucius questioned, as the aroma of the food permeated the air around them. Grateful that his wife was abroad in Paris for the witches fashion week, why they called it a week when it was longer than that was beyond him. "My wife has gone to Paris for fashion week, it is just the both of us." he felt the need to explain.

"Good, we have much to discuss," Tom stated firmly, "Let us adjourn to your office," taking control as always, despite the fact it was not his home, and that technically it was rude, but these people belong to him, they had sworn their allegiance to him after all.

Lucius bowed once more, "Let me show you the way," he said demurely, taking a step so he was in line with the Dark Lord, and began to lead him towards his office, which was on the ground floor where they were so it didn't take long at all to reach the door and open it, allowing his Lord to go first.

It took them a few minutes to settle in, as Lucius called a House-elf to bring their lunch to his office, as well as one of his more expensive wines with the best crystal glasses that was saved for special occasions.

Their meal was eaten in silence, uncomfortable on Lucius' part not that it showed. He'd had his share of wining and dining the worst dregs of society, not that those people were aware of his thoughts. They were nonetheless useful and he cultivated useful relationships that would be beneficial to him.

It was half an hour later, plates cleared of their meal and dessert before Tom spoke, "Tell me what happened that Halloween night," hoping that his follower had something at least more substantial than a stupid girl that had been told the tale as a bedtime story and became infatuated with anything to do with what was _his_.

Lucius swirled his wine around in his glass, "Nobody truly knows what happened that night, My Lord, and it remains to this day quite the mystery. Only four people were there that night, two died and it was reported that you were defeated, that the boy lived with only a lightning bolt etched into his forehead and was quite quick daubed with the name 'The-Boy-Who-Lived'. The prevailing opinion in certain circles was that Lily Potter had done some sort of sacrificial ritual that allowed her son to survive when he shouldn't. The general public believes it to be a miracle, and like to think that Potter was the second coming of Merlin."

"And which do you believe, Lucius?" Tom's tone was cold.

"I heard that Dumbledore placed the boy with _Muggle_ relatives," Lucius said in distaste, "That the boy was protected very heavily under blood wards, and has to return to them each summer to replenish the wards to keep the wards active. Blood wards are naturally dark, giving credence to the fact Lily Potter used some kind of sacrificial ritual." despite his disgust for her dirty blood he had to admire the length she had gone to for her son, children were extremely important in the magical world, some would say the most important thing. Any woman who would be willing to stand before the might of the Dark Lord and die in their child's stead deserved respect. He would never admit this out loud though.

Tom's lips curled in distaste, he loathed the fact that any wizard would be dumped in the Muggle world like that. It was his belief that no wizard should be, they should remain in their rightful world, and Muggles should not know about magic, it was a danger to them all. He shouldn't have grown up in a Muggle orphanage, it was something he felt strongly about and had tried so hard to change. He wasn't yet aware of why it had not succeeded; he needed the memories of the past three to four decades that he was missing. He couldn't rely on second-hand information. He would have to search out his main soul piece or find a way of getting the memories without encountering his older self. "Do you know the location of his relatives?"

"I do not, but I can get the information, he received an official warning from the Ministry of Magic for the underage usage of magic, which means there's a copy in the improper use of magic office, as well as having the accidental magic reversal squad sent out to his address, they had to inflate his uncles aunt if rumours were to be believed, which meant there will be a record there," Lucius informed the Dark Lord.

"Do so," Tom nodded in agreement and happiness that his needs were being met. "Not yet, we still have much to discuss," he added when he noticed Lucius rising from his seat to do his bidding. While he was pleased that the wizard would do what he asked so quickly, he needed information.

Lucius dipped his head in silent apology as he sat back down. Slightly surprised that he wasn't under the Cruciatus, if he had dared to do such a novice mistake before he was excused in the past he would have suffered under it unless the Dark Lord was in a good (forgiving) mood.

"Was my wand recovered?" Tom asked, and he would not be pleased if the Ministry of magic had it. He was very fond of his wand; he'd realized how much he missed it upon having Harry's wand which was very similar to his.

"No, My Lord, it was not," Lucius informed him, of that he knew for a certainty. "They couldn't find it, they tried, the belief is that someone had taken it as a memento along with many other items in Godric's Hollow before the Ministry put a stop to it, it remains persevered to this day." they had been furious at that, they'd wanted to see if he had somehow miscast the spell and created something completely different.

Tom pursed his lips in displeasure; he needed to know what had happened to it. Still, no matter, Borgin and Burkes had boxes of wands in the shop; one should do him well enough until he was reunited with his familiar wand. At least they did while he had investigated the shops while looking for books to keep his mind occupied with the tedious boredom of being taught magic he was already well versed in. "Do you know why I went after the Potters that night?" he had no doubt he would give Lucius an important place at his side, mostly for his political clout that he got with being a Malfoy, and no doubt due to his father.

Lucius paused, it may have only been momentarily but it was caught by Tom who was observing Lucius coolly. Truthfully Lucius wanted to avoid the madness and obsession that would probably come with the revelation. Unfortunately, he couldn't lie, for when he found out it would be his life that was forfeited. That is if he was lucky and the Dark Lord didn't decide to punish his wife and son instead. "It started off in the winter, the year was 1980, Severus Snape, your willing servant, at least he was. He observed Sybil Trelawney, a descendant of the great seer Cassandra Trelawney enter Hogshead pub, she was quite…loud about the fact she was coming here for a meeting with one Albus Dumbledore. Knowing it could be something of an interest to you, Severus began to listen in on what we realized was an interview for the Divination Position at Hogwarts, strangely enough after trying for so many years to get Divination removed from the curriculum at the school. Halfway through the interview Trelawney became strange."

Snape, he had heard of that name, Ginny Weasley had often commented on his distaste for all things Harry and Gryffindor. How he was always 'nasty' to her just because she was poor and a Weasley, whining about how horrid he was to 'her' Harry. It had amused him to no end, that didn't stop the irritation from having to play nice. He'd gotten what he wanted in the end so he honestly couldn't care. Giving Lucius a gesture to continue, suspicion churning in his gut, why would Dumbledore hold an interview in a dirty disgusting pub rather than at Hogwarts? Especially during winter weather in Scotland?

"Severus immediately went to you with what he heard, Regretfully Severus was caught before he heard the whole thing by Dumbledore's brother, and he was forcefully evicted from the premises, three lines of a prophecy that spoke of you and your demise," Lucius explained in his usual dramatic way.

Tom narrowed his eyes, that had to be far too convenient for his tastes, Dumbledore just so happens to have an interview in a pub, that he presumably still had its troubled reputation. Proceeded to have the meeting without a single silencing charm and his servant just happened to overhear a prophecy related to his downfall? Surely he must have investigated it, made sure of its authenticity; he wouldn't have been so blatantly manipulated by Dumbledore.

"Your Elite was there when Severus revealed those three lines of the prophecy, you quickly dismissed us after you heard, and we were forbidden from discussing it further," Lucius explained, those three lines had been seared into his mind. "The prophecy started as the following, The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies,"

Tom mulled over the words, perhaps it was a true prophecy, either that or Dumbledore had gotten extraordinary lucky. If it were a true prophecy then there would be a record of it, true prophecies were recorded automatically within the Department of Mysteries, he had taken Divination after all, and had thoroughly researched the subject with endless passion, much like he did with all other subjects he took. He had been curious as to how they were recorded since it said that the confessor of said prophecy didn't get to remember his or her words. He was appropriately skeptical about all of it and would remain so.

"Does the Ministry believe that I am truly gone?" Tom asked, his tone suddenly becoming angry, he had taken measures to ensure his immortality, and he would not be defeated so easily.

"No, there were searches done for you, quietly might I add, but nothing came of them, then the new Minister put a stop to it, insisting that you were gone and that it was a waste of money and resources that were better spent elsewhere." Lucius said derisively, "Cornelius Fudge is as closed minded and a weak fool as they come, not all the bribes in the world would have had him reconsider." the only upside was that he was easily manipulated and molded in other areas that benefited him. It was why he had not taken any measures to see him dead, he saw it as his duty just like his father before him.

"I want more information, Lucius," Tom stated sitting up straighter, giving Lucius a short warning already sliding easily past his mental defenses.

"Wait, My Lord, I have a better idea," Lucius quickly urged, sighing in mental relief as the presence faded from his mind before it could seek out a single memory. "I have a pensive, you will be able to view the memories in much greater detail than searching my mind will provide." it was true, the pensive would show the memories in their entirety, not just clips. It was for that reason he knew that the Dark Lord would agree.

"Very well," Tom agreed, waving to Lucius in a permissive manner. There was so much to do that he scarcely knew where to begin, thankfully he was quite determined, which helped center him. Memories first, so he could get a sense of himself, a new wand, then he would track his other self down, which shouldn't be too difficult with their connection. Return to Malfoy Manor and learn where Harry lived and reclaim what was his.

Miles away in Scotland, Harry Potter was despondently making sure he had everything in his trunk, the things he wanted stashing in his room was piled at the top for swift grabbing later once the train pulled in at Kings Cross. He hated returning to the Dursley's, he hated it more knowing he had a godfather out there who couldn't claim him because he was a wanted man. Hatred pinged at him, Dumbledore could have very easily put a stop to it all, could have gone to the Ministry and helped, instead he hadn't.

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I do hope that this chapter had helped clear things up, its the summer AFTER his third year he will be FOURTEEN in a month's time :) R&R please


	3. Chapter 3

The Mysterious Warrior

Chapter 3

* * *

Tom leaned back utterly vexed, it had been a month since he had returned, and nothing had gone according to plan. He had not been able to find the main soul piece. They were two pieces of the same soul, the only two pieces, he should have been able to see through him, get his exact location, yet nothing. No amount of meditation in aim for possession pushed through. It was almost as if the main soul piece had been killed by something or someone, which seemed impossible given the fact the female Weasley insisted Harry had faced him during his first year and he believed her. She had too many details for it to be lies, plus she mentioned something that most definitely would have gained his attention. _The philosopher stone_. It had only been over two years ago, having survived for ten years he wouldn't have succumbed that he was absolutely certain.

Lucius was the only one aware of his return, sure the Dark Mark had grown stronger upon their forearms, but it wouldn't activate and turn red then black until he called his servants to him. He had done his research after observing all the memories that Lucius had given him. The urge to call everyone to him and have them scour the entire country was extremely tempting. Unfortunately, he knew many of them were incarcerated in Azkaban, there would be a time where their usefulness would come to pass, and it was not this day. Others were possible traitors to his cause; they would pay for that with their lives.

Closing the book that he had ordered from a reputable source (to him anyway), his eyes were gleaming in frustration. He wasn't used to this, not being able to achieve his ends, and honestly, he wasn't quite sure how to handle it other than to curse everything in his path. Unfortunately for him, there was absolutely nobody around except for him, well him and his House-elves.

He had gone to Gringotts to reclaim his birthright, his inheritance, which in all fairness he had never really used. Why use your money when you had people willing to give you everything you wanted? Or accomplish his desires by stealing whatever struck his desire? He had found that his other self had stored a lot more money into the vaults over time, he had over twenty-nine vaults bursting with galleons, additional seats in the Wizengamot, more property than he knew what to do with all from people who had known him as 'Tom Riddle' possibly even some of his Knights. It opened a lot of possibilities for him; he still didn't understand what had happened. That creature he had seen in the memories had been inhuman; in both looks and actions, even those very useful to him hadn't been spared his wrath for such inconsequential things.

He'd observed over the years in the pensive that the awe and fear his followers felt for him turn to terror. It was almost as if he had gone insane, no he _had_ gone insane, and his goals, in the end, had been utterly meaningless. They accomplished absolutely nothing! He wasn't sure what had led him down that path, but he had a feeling he knew who had helped. Then there was this damn Prophecy, it had driven him over the edge. He would not let it happen again, this was his second chance and he would see it through, his original goals would be accomplished this time. With the aid of the one who Dumbledore would see destroy him.

Harry, he intended to fetch him soon, he had hoped to have his full memories when he did, but regretfully it wasn't meant to be. No matter, he would continue his search while he observed Harry, find out all he could. He was sure there was more to this than met the eye. Not just the prophecy but the boy himself. He was going to be a delight to unravel, he couldn't wait to see the boy under the masks he so liked to erect around a perfect façade of a golden Gryffindor boy. It wouldn't surprise him if the boy didn't even realize it was there.

A knock brought him out of his thoughts, "Enter!" Tom called, turning to face the door, knowing without a doubt it was Lucius. "Have you succeeded?"

"I have my Lord," Lucius said, dipping his head in respect, he no longer bowed or knelt before the Dark Lord, not because he didn't respect him but because it wasn't required. This version of His Lord did not require him to debase himself in the name of the cause or to prove his loyalty, and Lucius was becoming increasingly fond of this version of him. Lucius removed the documents from his pocket and handed them over. "They will pass any and all scrutiny placed upon them." it was late, but he'd successfully hurried them along and he was eager to get home to spend time with his wife and son.

"And Durmstrang?" Tom queried, accepting the folder and flipping through the documents within, nodding in approval. It was official, as of now he had graduated from Durmstrang with full honors, homeschooled for the most part except for his exams of course, which he'd sat at the appropriate time. After all it would be impossible to tell if he was lying that way, otherwise all it would take was conversing with a graduate of Durmstrang to find out that there had been no Tom Riddle within their year. Unfortunately he couldn't change his name, only add to it, as he'd done so when he became Lord Slytherin. The results were in the name of Lord Tom Riddle-Slytherin.

"All details under the name of Tom Riddle has been entered with the appropriate grades," Lucius explained, of course, he had known His Lord's true name, not only had his father been one of his most trusted, he had been given a diary with the Dark Lord's name on it. If he hadn't known then he would have found out very quickly afterwards, he was after all far too curious for his own good. "He's not aware of who you are, or your return, to be on the safe side I ensured he could not betray us if he tried." he had made him swear an Unbreakable Vow before giving over a hundred galleons the pitiful weasel was doing it for.

"Good," Tom stated, "You did well, Lucius,"

"Thank you, My Lord," Lucius said dipping his head again. "If I may…My Lord, could I inform my son of your return?" he asked apprehensively.

Tom stared at the wizard, finding out why he was so eager to share the news with his son. To his surprise it wasn't smugness or a desire to brag, it was fear. He feared that Draco may say the wrong thing to him should he ever show up at the Manor while the boy was there. "His Occlumency barriers?" he enquired after a few moments of silence, given what the wizard had done for him thus far he deserved some consideration. He was pleased with Lucius' work thus far.

"His godfather has been teaching him for years, Severus Snape is one of the best Occlumens besides yourself, and you taught him, My Lord." Lucius said, slightly surprised that his request hadn't been met with a resounding no, the Dark Lord had made it clear, he didn't want anyone to know of his return. Not until he had everything ready and he had to know who the traitors were. He didn't want Dumbledore aware of his return, nor his return to this body, he wanted anonymity to continue his goals.

"Very well, but stress the importance of this staying secret Lucius if word gets out…" he let it trail off aware that Lucius would understand without him saying anything.

"I will, My Lord," Lucius said seriously, he wasn't going to let anything happen to his family, he was going to take all the necessary precautions to keep them safe. If His Lord remained sane, they would be safer than they could perceive.

"Very well," Tom replied smoothly, no doubt Lucius had been terrified of leaving the manor should he drop by unannounced. "You may go."

Lucius bowed once more before taking his leave, unable to help himself but look around, the mansion was stunning, he had yet to find a coat of arms, however, so he couldn't say who the place belonged to before it was willed to His Lord. There was nothing but mountains and moors as far as the eyes could see, it was very secluded but he'd bet that was why the Dark Lord chose it. The Mansion was in Northumberland, fourteen miles from the closest neighbor and fifteen miles from the closest shop, if he walked, which he wouldn't. It was only a second if he chose to Apparate.

It was obvious he wasn't going to make any progress today, so he picked up the book he had just spent the last few hours reading for information and slid it back into its slot. He would just have to resign himself to searching for any sign or going to the places he was sure he'd hide out. Unfortunately, it was obvious to him a lot had changed since he had been created. He couldn't truly even begin to guess at what he would be thinking, he was utterly insane.

Placing the folder with his important documents he placed it in the desk drawer and removed the one that had been previously on top. This one had every detail on Harry that Lucius had been able to pilfer or find out while at the Ministry without raising too many eyebrows. Using different resources to do most of the work for him. Yes, he had turned out to be extremely reliable; he was very pleased with the Weasley girl for informing him of Lucius' loyalties.

Number four Privet Drive Surrey, he had refrained from reading it before, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist going earlier than planned. Which he was already doing, much to his consternation. He picked up his cloak and transfigured it into a jacket with a wave of his hand; he wasn't going to raise unwanted speculation, just in case Dumbledore had someone watching over Harry. Once he was sure his attire would raise no questions, he nodded to himself before he Apparated.

The sign for Privet Drive was lit by the dim lampposts that spread out evenly over the entire street. His eyes observed his surroundings, looking for any sign that his Apparation had caused any concern. It wasn't the case, the street was quiet, curtains were closed and there was nobody even glancing out their windows in curiosity. Perhaps Dumbledore didn't have someone watching over Harry.

Once he was secure in his observation that he was unobserved, he began to stroll down the street, looking for the number four blazoned against the door. Each garden and home was identical, lawns mowed, immaculately, flowers and bushes planted in flower beds, all in the same areas, under the windows. Muggles, he thought in disgust, they were sheep. The rest of his thoughts on Muggles were cut off when he saw the door he was looking for.

Removing the potion, he swallowed it down, knowing without looking that he had turned invisible. Useless against wizards but Muggles were totally ignorant creatures. Approaching the garden, he opened the gate and strolled down the path, he could feel the wards surrounding him but granting him entrance, they were torn, fragmented, useless barely clinging to life.

Once at the door he paused briefly when he heard loud yelling, as he stood there he began to suspect it was his regular speaking volume. He was obviously talking to someone, he just couldn't hear that someone, at least not without a spell.

While his new wand was…adequate, he missed his real wand, and if he ever found it the person who had it would suffer tortures of the damned for daring to touch his wand let alone handle it and take it. Trying the handle, he found that the door was unlocked, idiots, he thought derisively, sliding in, he closed the door without a sound.

Tiptoeing forward, he glanced into the living room, finding a very large obese man; frankly, he looked more like a pig. The other, a woman, he observed, was the opposite, she was bony, and the results of their coupling was on every available surface of the wall. A blonde haired pig, oh how he longed to curse the disgusting creature, they should not have spawned a child he looked inbred. The product of his thoughts he realized, was sitting stuffing its face with ice cream, watching a television in the kitchen, they were well off, three televisions most families could only afford one.

Turning around, he began to slowly make his way upstairs; the first one was some sort of storage room, by the look of the dozen padlocks evidently something valuable. Moving past it, he had no desire to see what the Muggles had that was valuable, they were pathetic creatures. Peering into the first bedroom, the master bedroom, it belonged to the parents judging by the state of the mattress. There was a crater the size of the Grand Canyon where the man slept. Shaking his head in horrified disgust, he'd never seen anything like it in his life. Opening the second bedroom, he suspected it to be Harry's, only to glance at the bed to see he was wrong, it was the pig spawn. The third room must be Harry's then, walking over a few short steps, he opened the door the light from the landing splashing into the room, his brow furrowed it was a sickly peach color with china dogs on every available surface.

Blinking in confusion, had Lucius been deceived and this was not where Harry Potter lived? He would have suspected this to be the case if not for the blood wards he could feel surrounding the house, as feeble and fragmented as they were. Stepping out of the room, his eyes narrowing in on the room with the padlocks, it was the only other conceivable room that Harry could be in. Anger burst through his veins, those pigs had locked him into a room like some sort of animal? He wished he could say he was truly surprised, he had suspected abuse; he had been too desperate to save the school, to stop it closing down. Just like he had been when it was revealed to him by Dippet that the school would be closing. Hence his hastily decision to blame Hagrid and his stupid pet spider.

Dumbledore had done it again. The question was why? Why would Dumbledore let his great defender be abused? He would hate Muggles, and be more likely to join his side; he was missing the bigger picture. Waving his wand, he unlocked the door with Wandless magic. He much preferred that to his new wand, but he only used the wand if he was in any public setting. The room before him contrasted greatly from the rest of the house, the room was disgusting there was no other word for it.

Closest to him was a chest of drawers that looked ready to topple down, upon them sat an owl in a cage that looked as though it hadn't been washed in years. Then there was a table with a lamp on it, and a bed in the corner with bedding he was sure was meant to be peach once upon a time. Directly behind the door was a rickety wardrobe with doors open, he saw a picture of the owl presumably drawn by Harry taped to the inside. Everything was dusty and unkempt, broken toys lay in the corner notably Muggle in nature. Beside it was a bucket, the smell emanating from the room - he needed no further investigating to know what it was for.

The lump in the middle of the bed was presumably Harry; he had a few musty covers over him, the only thing to keep him warm. He shook his head, he would need to teach Harry to be more aware of his surroundings, honestly, it would be all too easy to go over there and let those two simple words come out of his mouth. Then again that Halloween night had proven that it wasn't as easy as it seemed. It would more than likely backfire, he thought in savage amusement, as he approached the bed. That small body contained a thirst to survive like no other he'd ever seen before.

Stepping right up to the bed, still, the bundle in the covers didn't even twitch, he most likely had his wand under his pillow, at least if he had any sense of self-preservation - which he did - he had heard and seen it for himself. His fingers grasped the corner of the sheet and carelessly flung it aside, drinking the antidote to the invisibility potion, which he had brewed and created himself when he was fourteen. One of his many creations, he had been extremely handy for sneaking around.

Giving the sleeping teen a shake, trying to wake him up, only for Harry to wince groggily, evidently, his arm hurt. Arching an eyebrow wondering what he had happened. If it had been done at school it would have been healed by this, so it was those disgusting Muggles. The urge to torture and kill them was strong, but if he wanted to take Harry without any suspicion coming down upon him, he had to let the Muggles live…for now. The Dursley's days were numbered; as soon as his return was known they would be the first people killed, the mark gloriously set up into the sky for all to see, showing that Dumbledore wasn't all omnipotent. The very place he insists Harry is safe was utterly demolished by him. This eased some of his anger, he was patient, and he had the time. Converting Harry to his side came first.

Harry blinked groggily, wondering what was happening, he usually heard his uncle coming into his room. He was either yelling loudly or slamming the door against the wardrobe. Then he caught sight of something that truly alarmed him, causing him to sit up regardless of the pain in his side or head. "Shit," he muttered, staring cautiously at Tom, he couldn't believe it; he'd actually gotten into Privet Drive! It should have been impossible. The wards should have been able to protect him from this. That's what Dumbledore had constantly insisted, hence his decision to constantly send him back.

Tom stared back smugly, "Ready to uphold your oath, pet?" he purred out dangerously, eyes gleaming with a gleefull victory.

Harry just stared back in horror, as his imagination ran away with him, wondering all sorts of things that Tom would force him to do, each thought becoming increasingly gorier than the last. It wasn't as if he could defend himself, his wand was under the floorboards, with his uncle coming into his room at night to beat him he couldn't risk putting it under his pillow.

He could feel the magic in the oath rearing up; reminding him he was bound to Tom's will.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Well, he was in for a worse birthday than usual, or what was left of it, since in a few hours it would be August.

* * *

There we go! Another little edit hopefully there's enough clues to what age Harry is etc... R&R


	4. Chapter 4

The Mysterious Warrior

Chapter 4

* * *

Gulping loudly, his mind whirling in panic and fear, Trelawney's prophecy ringing in his ears 'the servant raising Voldemort to be more terrible than he ever was' what if it wasn't Pettigrew but him it was referring too? What was Tom going to demand of him? Shivering in cold and dread, the magic still rearing up, gearing towards sealing his word to whatever Voldemort wanted. "H-how did you get in here?" he rasped out, still clutching his side, his green eyes wide. The blood wards were supposed to protect him, it was the whole reason he was stuck here.

"I came in through the front door," Tom said in his usual soft-spoken manner, but his eyes gleamed as if they were making fun of him.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, suspicion and wariness radiating from him so much so that even Tom could see it from what little light was pouring into the room.

"You already know that answer, you," Tom stated, "I'm hardly here to converse with your filthy Muggle family." gauging Harry's response to that, and to his considerable surprise there was a flare of amusement and understanding perhaps even an agreement gleaming in Harry's eyes. "So pack your things and let's go."

"Go?" Harry blurted out, why the hell would he want them to go anywhere? To kill him somewhere else? What was the point? What did he want?

"Unless of course, you actually want to stay here?" Tom drawled, glancing around the room in distaste, the Potter heir, last of the Potter line and one day Lord Potter living in squalor, one worse than what even he grew up in.

"If it keeps me alive then yes," Harry retorted in annoyance, internally he was dying to get out of here, it was only a week but he felt like he was going insane.

"If I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead," Tom answered immediately, his tone never once changing despite the conversation they were conversing about killing or dying.

"Hasn't worked so far," Harry daringly said, green eyes glaring challengingly up at the admittedly stunning creature before him. He was the picture of perfection, and just looking at him you wouldn't think to know what he had done, the amount of damage he had caused or the people he'd murdered because he could.

"Now, now, pet, putting this off isn't going to work, nobody is going to come," Tom replied, the only wards around the house were the blood wards, there was no alert or proximity ward up to inform Dumbledore that he was there. "You can come willingly and make it easier on yourself or I will bind you." he didn't want to use magic, but that didn't mean he wouldn't if he had to. One way or another he was getting this boy out of this house and start the process of turning him to his side.

Harry flushed in anger, he wasn't a bloody pet, and he didn't like it when Tom called him that with that tone of voice! It was just so wrong, added to the fact it made his stomach feel all weird. Like he was nervous or something, but he wasn't, he wasn't nervous or afraid he tried to tell himself. "Most of my stuff is downstairs," Harry said with bite, his tone bitter. At least he was letting him take his things with him, especially Hedwig since the Dursley's would be liable to kill her before feeding her or putting up with her screeching. His other feelings were drowning out his confusion; he was honestly quite baffled now since there was no sign of violence or real threats.

"Then go and retrieve it," Tom stated, he would follow of course; he wasn't going to risk Harry trying to run. He was trying to keep him out of Dumbledore's clutches not make him run into them.

Harry gritted his teeth as he knelt down and retrieved the bundle from under the floor before stating, "They won't take it out," at least not for him, considering his relatives hadn't been killed Tom obviously didn't want anyone to know he was here in the first place.

Tom's eyes flashed angrily, turning around he swiftly exited the small bedroom and made his way downstairs. The urge to kill them becoming stronger each step he took, but he knew he couldn't. That just irked him more; he wasn't used to not doing whatever he liked. Instead of the Cruciatus Curse followed by the killing curse, he merely used an almost silent 'Somnium' on the occupants in the room, the Muggles couldn't fight it off and quickly succumbed to sleep, the spell bringing on the urge to 'dream'.

Unsurprisingly Harry had followed eyes wide watching him perform magic, cringing in dread, the last time any magic had been performed in the house he had been accused of doing it - when Dobby had been the offending party. Was that what Tom had wanted? To see him expelled from Hogwarts?

"No need to look so horrified, they're merely asleep," Tom said sadistically poking the obese man.

"I'm going to be expelled," Harry whispered horrified, slightly surprised nothing had shown up yet. Clutching his owl's cage, which had Hedwig safely ensconced inside, dread filled him, and how would he explain this? They hadn't even tried to find out if it had been him who cast the hover charm; they probably wouldn't question it on this occasion either.

Tom refrained from rolling his eyes at Harry's dramatic display, "Hardly, Wandless magic is never registered after all the trace is on your wand, not magic." he informed the teen sardonically, it's how he got away with using magic during the summer, not that it helped much, he loathed being in the Muggle world.

"But I got accused of the hover charm that Dobby did!" Harry protested as Tom yet again did magic to undo the locks on the cupboard, his eyes narrowing as he saw pictures, a disused mattress, and broken toy figures as well as crayons scattered about around the trunk. His mind expertly remembering the picture of the owl upstairs. Harry had spent an inordinate amount of time in this cupboard, but that was something he'd find out about - later.

"Let me guess in front of Muggles?" Tom drawled in a bored voice, as he removed the shrunk trunk and slipped it into his pocket, he would look through it the second they Apparated to an empty field just in case there were any tracking charms on his items. He doubted there was, but he'd rather be safe than sorry. He did not want anyone finding out about his new hideout, anyone tracking an item would find the place, especially if it miraculously stopped working at that exact spot.

"Well, yes," Harry said subdued, beginning to believe Tom when he said his magic couldn't be detected and wasn't that just strange? Why would he believe his parents killer when he said anything? He shouldn't, but so far he hadn't really lied to him.

"In accordance to my terms of the oath, you will come with me until I deem otherwise, and you will not try to run away or leave, so mote it be!" Tom said straightening up, magic flared waiting for Harry's acceptance or rejection of said terms. No sane wizard would reject the terms; otherwise, they would lose their magic so Tom was very confident that he would agree.

"Fine," Harry bit out, wariness getting the better of him again, why the hell did Tom want him to go with him? Where did he want him to go?

"Do you not know the first thing about oaths?" Tom sighed yet again in exasperation, "The state of Hogwarts education has declined I see, you must agree to come with me and not run away or leave and add so mote it be at the end." ignoring the flush on Harry's cheeks, it was either embarrassment or anger. Truthfully he couldn't exactly blame Harry for his ignorance, not fully, but he could have picked up a book and read about it. What else was the boy completely unaware of? It was disgraceful that the only heir to the Noble and Most Ancient line of Potter was utterly inept. Sure it wasn't the largest, oldest or wealthiest of the families, but it wasn't lacking at least it hadn't in his time. Could so much have changed since his time that they weren't well off? Considering what the boy was wearing he was beginning to suspect it had declined.

"I agree to terms put forth, I will go with you, and I will not run away or leave," Harry said through gritted teeth, "So mote it be!" magic flared within him, completing the oath fully, until the terms of the oath were fulfilled there was nothing he could do. Worse still he couldn't think of a single way out of it, the terms were very clear and concise. He could not, would not lose his magic, he would rather die than allow it. Something he suspected Tom knew and had used it to his advantage. Had he agreed to save Hogwarts from closing only to lose the only safe place he'd ever known anyway? An image of ending up in a cell crossed his mind, and there wasn't even a way for him to get the hell out without breaking the oath. He'd utterly screwed himself, why had he agreed to the oath without knowing what it was? He was an idiot, he should have made sure it was worded better but he didn't know anything about them other than the fact that breaking an oath you lose your magic, breaking a Vow you lose your life.

Smugness filled Tom's entire being, Harry Potter was his, and he had a lot to do and only two months to do it. He would succeed in this, he absolutely refused to fail. All else could be put on the backburner, except the search for his wandering soul. "Let's go," Tom stated gesturing for Harry to leave first, the boy looked as if he was going to the gallows and it truly amused him. Harry had no idea just how safe he was, over time he would come to see it but for now, he'd let him think the worst because when the worst didn't happen it would be points for him.

They quietly left the same way that Tom came, once they were in the alleyway he Apparated both of them to a secluded area of London, somewhere he knew nobody would be around. He had come to know the place quite well despite the changes in over six decades during his search for his other self.

Harry shivered in his baggy clothes as the wind whipped around them, half expecting Tom to point his wand at him and say those two words that would kill him. Why else would he be brought to a construction site? Stiffening up as Tom pointed his wand at him, but it wasn't a green light that erupted from the wand, it was white, it sank into him, it didn't hurt much to his surprise. Then the tingling started, all the way from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, making them curl slightly at the sensation. He was glowing red, he realized, so was his owl, what the hell was that spell? "What did you do?" he asked, unable to help the warble in his voice, he was truly surprised he hadn't been killed.

"You have a tracking spell upon you, and I do not mean your wand, in you, your glasses and your owl," Tom stated, Harry's eyes gleamed angrily before resignedly, he wasn't surprised, not really. Flicking his wand he removed all tracking charms. He would check him thoroughly later; right now all he cared about was making sure nobody would know where the boy was. "You already suspected?" he questioned as he removed Harry's trunk and did the same spell over the contents.

"Yes," Harry murmured, still watching curiously now. Dumbledore always knew where he was, while first-year could be explained by Hermione telling Dumbledore where he was, second-year could not. The headmaster had known he was in the chamber of secrets, and it was suspicious that Fudge and the Weasley's had shown up in the Leaky Cauldron before and just after he'd got there. He suspected Dumbledore had sent them there to keep an eye on him. The Weasley's couldn't afford new things let alone staying in the Leaky Cauldron as long as they had. Not that he minded, it had been great seeing them all, but being tracked by Dumbledore angered him. If he had just asked, just expressed concern for his safety he would have agreed to it. The thought of magic being placed on him without his consent was disgusting. Not just him but his owl! His bloody glasses! Not just that either, he realized, as his trunk glowed red too.

Harry quickly snatched the book from Tom's fingers, staring at him defiantly, holding it close, almost toppling his poor owl in her cage, it was the only pictures he had of his parents. He inwardly cursed when he saw he had only ignited Tom's curiosity over the photo album. He would never go anywhere without it, and that was why it had been chosen. If Dumbledore already had a tracking charm on him why use magic on his things? It made no sense whatsoever. At least not to him anyway. Another wordless incantation had his photo album beginning to dim, the red fading away leaving it un-tampered with.

"Now we can go," Tom said in satisfaction, once again he dealt with the trunk before taking a hold of Harry's shoulder and Apparating them to his home.

Harry's eyes widened after he'd recovered from the abrupt sensation of side-long Apparating, it might be night but the lights surrounding the mansion paved the way, showing it off in all its glory. There wasn't a single sign of any lights as far as he could see on either side, the place must be very secluded but he wasn't at all surprised really. A lot of the pureblood's had spoken of home, most of it he'd overheard, about having 'Manors' in school, like Susan Bones, Neville Longbottom, all the Slytherin's, most notably Draco Malfoy, smug git, who thought he was better than everyone else and boasted constantly.

It never once dawned on Harry that he might have one.

Tom relished in the look of awe on Harry's face, he had come into the Chamber of Secrets, a place that was built by the Great Salazar Slytherin and hadn't appreciated that. Given where he had grown up in he'd have expected something more, but no, at least his home was enough to impress the teen. He shook off that thought, now why the hell would he want to impress Harry? Merely to gain points, he thought sternly to himself. He needed no one's approval if fact people sought his approval.

The mansion hosted three levels, as seen by the three rows of windows, the middle level had balcony's at each window, two chimney stacks at each end, despite its oldness there was nothing out of place, it was well looked after. He could hear water trickling nearby, not enough to be a pond or river, it must be a water fountain, probably down the stairs, there were two staircases, stone, leading up to the thick wooden door, with large black knockers. There were expansions on the ground level, done after the original mansion was built, with a similar design but far too modern to be anything but an extension added later. One side looked like a conservatory but it wasn't despite the fact most of it was glass, with the pillars surrounding it. It was the last place he would have expected to house Tom Riddle - aka the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort.

Harry's gaze slid to Tom's, confusion mingling with caution; he just couldn't understand his game. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Let's do this inside shall we?" Tom stated, Harry was shivering in the cold after all, and it was much colder here than it was in London. He had seen the contents of Harry's trunk and knew the boy had no decent clothes save his school uniform which looked new. Evidently, he had enough money to buy new school things but not enough to buy clothes? It made no sense to him but he was determined to uncover absolutely everything, including the deal with the cupboard under the stairs, had it been used as a punishment?

Harry nodded, a tad more eagerly than he realized, yes, he wished to get out of the cold, and even if he ended up in a cell for his troubles at least he would be out of the wind. He was used to small enclosed spaces; it wouldn't break him if that was what Tom was going for he told himself. He was stronger than that, a lot stronger - Tom would see.

"Come," Tom said, swiftly walking away, not even checking to see if Harry was coming or not, content knowing that Harry couldn't run away, which allowed him to give Harry moderate freedom to do as he pleased, something he probably didn't get from Dumbledore or the Dursley's. He would make sure Harry got quite addicted to the freedom; he would come to associate him with it.

Harry gazed around as he walked hastily after Tom, the entrance hall was beautiful, but he noticed the areas where the portraits had been removed. They were lighter than any other area, cleaner, newer, he absently wondered where they had been put. His stomach churned as he approached the room Tom had entered, wondering if this was it. Stepping in he blinked, it looked a cross between an office and a potions lab. He jumped when Tom spoke, "Take a seat, put the owl anywhere" as he plucked vial after vial off a rack, he didn't know potions well enough yet to know what all of them were. Nonetheless, the sight of them made him nervous, as he reluctantly did as he was told, giving him a stubborn look just so Tom knew he wasn't meek.

"Lift up your top," Tom demanded, giving him a look that plainly said he'd do it for him if he didn't.

He knew Harry thought, closing his eyes miserably, the wizard who wanted nothing more than to see him dead knew. With a sigh, he gripped the edge of his frayed pajama top and slid it effortlessly over his skinny frame, its large size helping make it easier. Displaying the various scars and bruises to Tom who oddly enough looked really angry at seeing them instead of mocking him. In fact, he could have sworn he said in a seething whisper "Filthy Muggles," but Harry was distracted by the fact Tom was once again performing magic on him.

"Your ribs have been broken in the past, set improperly," Tom said and began to rattle off every single thing that wasn't right with him. Bruised ribs, kidneys, spleen, pancreas, whiplash to his neck, fractured hands and jaw, and of course the bruises and the internal bleeding and infection. Then there was the malnourishment, the fact you could see every single one of his ribs. It was little wonder he was shivering so severely, the malnutrition that had been forced upon Harry had reduced his muscle, tissue mass resulted in his inability to stay warm that was just one of the effects. How was he still able to walk with all those problems? Tom thought aghast; his pain tolerance must be pretty high.

Harry just stared at Tom oddly, he looked really pissed off at what he was reading, which just served to confuse the teen further.

Tom forced himself to remain calm, but his eyes showed a whole other story. Returning back to the cupboards containing his potions, he began to remove the vials; glad he had everything the teen would need. "Why did you not get the oculi sarta potion when you entered the magical world?" instead of wandering around with glasses, which were the wrong prescription which was doing more damage than good at this point - it was detrimental to his sight.

"Eye repairing potion?" Harry understood the words but he hadn't been aware of such a potion, why hadn't anyone told him? Ron, Hermione or even Madam Pomfrey? "No, I didn't know something like that existed."

"Perhaps reading a book might relieve you of that particular problem," Tom said sarcastically.

"I'll do that, just as soon as I know I don't have to look over my shoulder because YOU want to kill me," Harry said back just as sarcastically. "Twice in two years, you've tried! Well, sort of! And this year it was your damn Death Eaters who tried!" in the end it was a protest, not sarcasm.

Tom stared at Harry with a pondering look on his face, "You are aware that I am not the Voldemort you've interacted with in the past do you not? Yes, I am Voldemort, but a younger version of him, one who had no memories past school years." once he saw that Harry did understand, "Just who is this Death Eater?" perhaps that was the way to successfully find his other self. No doubt Harry wouldn't pick up on the 'had' in that sentence since it wasn't the case now.

"The bastard who betrayed my parents," Harry bit out sourly, "Peter Pettigrew, sometimes known as Wormtail, Trelawney said that Pettigrew was going to break free and set out to rejoin his master and that he'd come back greater and more terrible than ever before." he had not consciously wanted to share that, but it had slipped out unintentionally. He was in pain and he was tired, had been all week.

He had no memories of this Peter Pettigrew in his service, none from Lucius, but if this man had been a spy for the light side, it made sense that none of his men would know if his existence. He made a note of the name, he would need to find out more about him, if only he had retrieved Harry immediately he could already have begun the search, perhaps even finished it and found him. No matter, he was making progress, which was the most important thing.

"This will begin healing your bruised organs," Tom said, passing the first potion over, having uncorked it for the boy. Then over and over again he repeated the process, explaining what each potion did, one for the fractures, another for the infections (which he would need to get for over seven days) and one for the internal bleeding.

He would need to acquire a level ten nutrition potion, which would slowly begin to give the boy the vitamins and such his body desperately needed. He couldn't get the oculi sarta potion tonight, he didn't want to overdose the boy, and that would happen with the ingredients in that particular brew.

"Turn around, I'm going to apply a bruise salve," Tom stated, his tone soft as always but booking no argument from the teen. He didn't even blink at the severity of the bruises, it was little wonder there was damage to his organs, he had been repeatedly kicked in the back, presumably after curling up to fend off the attack from his obese uncle or cousin. Once again Harry didn't even as much as flinch, definitely a high tolerance for pain. Tom applied the salve trying to control his building anger, why hadn't he just killed them? They would rue the day the filthy Muggles had raised a hand to a wizard. "Turn back around," he commanded, once it was done, and Harry did, not happy about it but nevertheless he was being obedient, for the moment. Probably the shock of it all no doubt.

Harry watched Tom with a deep-seated confusion, each minute he spent in Tom's presence it was becoming more and more pronounced. One of the evilest wizards in the world was standing delicately putting a salve on his bruises, having been angry that they were there. Shouldn't he have been amused at his misfortune? All he knew was being turned on its head, nobody had ever helped him, not really any way except maybe his friends but never like this - they didn't know the half of what he went through so it wasn't their fault. Tom had no need to do this yet he was there had to be a reason he just wasn't seeing it.

The touch was soothing, which was also odd, he didn't like people touching him, he tolerated the hugs from Mione, and hated the pats on the back from Ron especially at the start of the year, they hurt like blazes. It was relaxing, and with how tired he was his eyes were beginning to droop on him, blinking his eyes rapidly, and forcing himself to stay awake not trusting his environment enough to sleep.

Tom's lips twitched seeing the pleasantness of his touch was causing Harry to feel comfortable enough to relax, although it might have something to do with the fact he was tired or it may well be the muscle relaxer in the potion perhaps a combination thereof. He had plans on having Harry addicted to his touch, this was just the beginning. Finishing up, he screwed the lid back on and placed it aside on the worktop. "Come," Tom said, grasping a hold of his elbow and standing him up. He definitely wouldn't be able to walk up three flights of stairs; sightseeing of the Mansion would have to wait until tomorrow.

He hooked his finger through the loop on the owl's cage and Apparated the three of them to the main corridor of the third floor. He had warded the third floor completely; nobody without his expressed permission could get through the wards. This was where his sleeping quarters were, he took no chances, it was more secure than the rest of the house put together. Half of the wards he had created himself, he could scarcely wait to see what else he had invented in the sixty years he'd been on this earth as soon as he could find the soul or the books/journals he had.

"There are nine bedrooms in the Mansion, two Master bedrooms with ensuite," Tom informed the drowsy teen, getting a lot more enjoyment out of taking care of someone than he thought he would. "The doors to left is my room, do not enter the room without my permission, the consequences will be severe…I have warded it." making sure that the teen understood that he wouldn't be causing the hurt but the wards he'd placed would. "Do you understand?" he had to be sure Harry was properly awake for this.

"Yes, never go into your bedroom without permission," Harry murmured, his brow furrowed, he was getting his own bedroom? Then to his eternal surprise, Tom opened the doors with magic, his owl floating through the doors and placed on a table. The room was breathtaking, decorative cornice and ceiling rose, a Victorian tiled fireplace (which was blazing with warmth, flickering the room with orange light) with a white marble mantle, cast iron Victorian grate. With built-in bookcases, with oak engineered board flooring. There was a three seater leather couch and seats surrounding the fireplace and a king-size four-poster bed at the other side. There were two doors, one was a single door that led to the ensuite, which housed a shower, toilet, bidet, wash basin and heated towel rail Harry realized as he looked around his new accommodations, the other doors led to a spacious walk-in closet that was bigger than his bedroom, both of them.

Leaving the empty closet he stared at Tom, feeling utterly lost. "Why?" the warmth of the room was extremely pleasant, making him feel even more tired than previously.

"Sleep, Harry, all will be explained when you are awake and aware again," Tom said, he found Harry standing there looking lost terribly adorable and he'd never admit that to anyone. Eyeing the disgusting pajamas he wore, he summoned some of his own nightwear, they would fit Harry a lot more than his pig of a cousins cast offs would. It wasn't a stretch to think they were the cousins, he had seen the size of the boy. The string Harry had on the clothes was all that was preventing the bulky things from sliding down his too thin frame. He was sure after a week or so the bruises and scars would be gone leaving behind quite a lithe frame behind. Imagining what Harry would look like in a few years made it difficult to control his desires. He wanted Harry, but willing, he had no need to force anyone into his bed, Harry would come willingly, but it was definitely much too soon yet. There were many ways in which a man could enjoy pleasure in each others company without penetrative sex and he was determined to introduce Harry to each and every one of them when he grew comfortable with him, grew to desire his touch in time.

Sliding his wand away, once again reminded that it just wasn't right for him, casting magic with it felt wrong. Still, it was better than nothing, he didn't want to exhaust himself every day casting Wandless magic, especially for the more difficult spells and wards he'd been putting up. "Here, put them on," Tom said, it was a testament to how exhausted Harry was that he actually did so without scowling, glaring or protesting. He lurched forward and grasped a hold of Harry when he almost toppled over trying to get out of the pajama bottoms.

Even his underwear was filled with holes and too big for him, grimacing in distaste at having to perform such a menial task, he helped Harry get dressed next time he was getting a House-elf to help him and that was that he couldn't have Harry thinking he was too different from Voldemort after all, he would do whatever it took to win, except going crazy. That he vowed would never happen he would not let it. Harry would learn he could be ruthless, but that he was safe from harm, and would relish the protection he received by being at his side he determined. "Sleep, pet," Tom said, an odd note to his voice. Seeing Harry dressed in his own clothes was…pleasant.

"G'night Tom," Harry murmured quietly as he slid into bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

"Only for you," Tom admitted, still liking that disgusting name coming from Harry's lips, he needed to write to the apothecary for the level ten nutrition potion, either that or take Harry on an outing tomorrow. He found himself too tired to bother writing a missive; to bed, it was for tomorrow they were going out. With that Tom exited the bedroom, closing the doors behind him.

* * *

I hope the mansion was described enough that you could get a real sense of it, I know in the past I was quite bad at describing things but I've been getting a little better with help from my editor : ) R&R please


	5. Chapter 5

The Mysterious Warrior

Chapter 5

* * *

Harry turned over stretching languidly, a contented sigh leaving his lips until he belated realized that his bed most certainly not this one. His eyes snapped open, his fingers trailing over the silky bedding until he remembered everything from last night. He abruptly sat up wide-eyed, Tom Riddle had come to his house, he'd gotten into Privet Drive despite Dumbledore's sureness that the wards would keep him safe from all danger. After an entire year passing he hadn't expected this to happen, he'd put the entire experience behind him. Not hard to do due to the fact he'd had Sirius and Pettigrew to deal with at Hogwarts this year. Was he stuck here? Would he be attending Hogwarts for his fourth year? Would anyone realize he was gone? Would anyone come from him? A bitter thought twisted in his mind, the acknowledgment he would just be sent right back to the Dursley's with more wards put around the house. It was a house, not a home; it had never been home to Harry.

Not only had Tom taken him here, put him in a beautiful room…but had also healed him. He had been so sure he would be killed, but if he wasn't going to be killed them what was it? Why would Tom want to bring him here? Nothing was making sense anymore, everything had always made sense to him, always. He felt better than he had in a long while and knowing it was Voldemort didn't sit well with him, he wasn't supposed to care, he wasn't supposed to heal him, he was only supposed to try and kill him.

He remembered that he had been promised answers, so without more ado, Harry slid out of the bed, wondering how long he had been asleep, he felt very refreshed. He normally got forced up at six o'clock in the morning to make breakfast for the Dursley's, even Dudley, who usually just went back to bed until lunchtime then ate again before going on his computers. He noticed his trunk at the end of the bed, hastily making his way over he opened it to find absolutely everything there. Including his broomstick, invisibility cloak, photo album and his wand, the most important items he held most dear…which had been imbued with tracking charms. Staring at the trunk for a few minutes, lost in thought as his mind whirled. Right, answers, he had promised so hopefully, he would keep his promises. Harry didn't hold up a lot of hope though.

He stared down at the pajama bottoms, flushing red when he remembered Tom bloody dressing him in them, after giving his clothes an utter contemptuous look. That's when he realized he had no clothes, literally no everyday clothes, just his Hogwarts uniform. Glancing towards the bird's cage, Hedwig, wasn't in her cage, the cage door was open and as was the window, he couldn't remember doing either thing.

Glancing at the nightwear, surprisingly the fact that they were Tom's didn't revolt him, it should, but they were very comfortable and newer than anything Harry had ever worn, school uniform wasn't made with the students comfort in mind, it was there to look good.

Grumbling in annoyance, he slipped out of the bedroom, looking in the two different directions or three if you included the staircase. Pushing the pajama bottoms up further, he wandered over to the staircase and made his way down, three levels, and a lot of stairs later Harry was on the bottom landing. There was only one problem; he had absolutely no idea where to go from here. He didn't even know what time it was or whether Tom was up yet or not.

"In here, Harry," came the cool collected voice of Tom Riddle, the same voice he always used, it seemed impossible to rile him up. Harry glanced in the direction the voice had come from, and a door seemed to crack open on its own.

Heart pounding again, Harry slowly made his way over to the door, opening it further face filled with caution, it was a dining room. Tom was sitting eating, and a bowl of food appeared beside Toms on the table. He must have a House-Elf he realized; at least he assumed so at any rate. He wasn't fully aware of what House-Elves could do, he only knew Dobby and it wasn't in a traditional sense since he had tried to kill him while claiming to want to save him a few times.

Harry wordlessly padded over and sat down, feeling extremely uncomfortable, there was a large bowl of porridge for him, mixed in with what smelt like cinnamon and some fruit. His stomach growled loudly, demanding that he eat, and Harry was too hungry to be appropriately suspicious - but Tom had already had many chances to kill him and hadn't yet - so he would just have to face the fact that for some reason Tom didn't want to kill him - yet.

He'd never had porridge before, neither at the Dursley's when they actually fed him or Hogwarts. He found to his immense surprise that he actually liked it. He was hyper aware that Tom was watching him, but Harry didn't give him any satisfaction by looking up. What also surprised him was the fact he was able to eat it all, the entire bowl full. He hadn't eaten properly since Hogwarts finished up and rarely was he able to eat a full meal for at least a fortnight after his return to the school. His stomach just wasn't able to handle too much after such long forced absence of any real sustenance.

"There are clothes on your bed that will shrink to fit you once you put them on, go and get dressed, we are going out to acquire a few things," Tom informed the fourteen-year-old once he was done with breakfast.

"Why?" Harry asked, becoming annoyed once again.

"Why are you here or why are we going out?" Tom asked with a knowing look on his face.

"Both," Harry grunted, hating that Tom could seemly see through him.

"You will realize the answer to that question throughout the day, as for why we are going out, as I said, I'd like to purchase a few things…I'm sure you will enjoy the trip immensely," Tom explained, answering without really giving Harry any answer at all. His lips twitching at the look on the teenagers face when he realized his question had been dodged. There was definitely a Slytherin in there somewhere; a Gryffindor would have just accepted the answer without looking deeper.

Harry's brow furrowed, he was obviously not going to get a better answer, scowling at Tom, and he stood up and with a huff stalked out of the room. Tom watched him go with an amused look, only Harry would have dared to turn his back on him in such a way after displaying such rebellious and contemptuous behavior. Nobody else would have had the guts to treat him so disrespectfully, not even Thaddeus or Avery the two more immature of his Knights. His behavior should have annoyed him; even he did not act like that when he was fourteen-years-old. Yet it did not, much to his confusion perhaps it was because he regarded Harry as something different from his knights.

Shaking off his inconsequential thoughts, he had a lot to do today, he paid no attention to the House-Elf who was clearing away the empty plates, he did however, pick up the thoroughly browsed Daily Prophet, that would go in his office, a few of the headlines had caught his curiosity and wanted to read it again later.

Standing up, he stalked towards his office and put the paper on the desk and grabbed the few things he would need today. He was sincerely glad that his older self had not touched the fortune that had amassed over the past six decades, he wasn't sure why he hadn't but he suspected that his older self had cut all ties with 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' and became Voldemort completely, which meant everything willed to him over time. From people he had associated with while he was at Hogwarts or just after he began his political aspirations which Lucius had informed him that Dumbledore had stalled each legislation, he had tried to pass. Apparently, Abraxas had kept all paperwork involved in his political career, which was not surprising since Abraxas had been extremely thorough in his time, and time had not changed that.

Once he was done, he stepped out of his office to wait on Harry, "We will definitely make a pureblood of you yet," Tom said, gazing at Harry with an approving nod.

"I'm not a pureblood," Harry pointed out not at all comfortable with the way Tom was looking at him.

"You come from a very distinguished line, Harry, in fact, more than one pureblood family," Tom informed him, "With that comes specific obligations, especially when you take up the mantle of Lord Potter."

"What do you mean by more than one pureblood family?" Harry asked, green eyes gleaming, this was new information he definitely didn't know about. He was so eager for information that he didn't even flinch at the sight of Tom drawing his wand and pointing it at his face, his eyes did, however, go cross-eyed staring at the wand tip. His hair did begin to itch something fierce, so he scratched at his scalp only to feel the disconcerting feeling of his hair growing long as if the fringe getting longer didn't already make him realize his hair was beginning to lengthen.

"There that should do it," Tom said smugly, as he tied off the long hair, his forehead was obscured by his long hair. Giving Harry an exasperated look, "Are you telling me that you do not know anything about your family history?" a bit hypocritical of him since it took him five years to find out about his own family, but he couldn't have afforded the fee that Gringotts took for giving him a full tapestry of his ancestors. He'd had to do it by hand, but given the fact that Harry was a Potter and had access to a fortune, he should have been able to find out everything about his family. That and he had people who would have helped him. At least he should have done.

With a sad look on his face, Harry shook his head; nobody mentioned his family except on a very rare occasion. Ollivander and Hagrid came to mind, although he suspected Hagrid had been told to tell him what he had.

"Come, let's go," Tom said, guiding Harry into his office and into the Floo network, grasping a handful of the Floo Powder he called out his destination. Which by the way was longer than Harry had ever known, by the time he was evicted from the network he felt as though he was going to be thoroughly sick.

Tom, of course, remained standing while Harry had toppled to the ground, scrambling to his feet hastily, "Where are we?" he asked, it was really hot all of a sudden.

"Do you recognize the coat of arms?" Tom questioned, pointing towards the cloth hanging on the fireplace, it was done in green, silver and black with snakes adorned it. Time to begin teaching Harry what he should already know after three years in the magical world.

"Should I?" Harry asked in wonder, "Slytherin?" he knew it wasn't, or rather suspected it wasn't. The house was beautiful, it made the houses in Privet Drive look tawdry in comparison. There wasn't a single piece of dust to be seen, it almost looked like a show home if not for the personal details in view that gave it away as a pureblood home.

"No, but it does pay homage to Salazar Slytherin," Tom said in amusement, "Do you recognize the Latin words and their meaning?"

"Sanctimonia Vincet Semper," Harry murmured his pronunciation of Latin perfect. "Semper means always," the rest he did not know. He wasn't well read in Latin yet, but he was getting there. He could say any word in Latin perfectly but he didn't know the meanings of every single world. Give him a break.

"It means Purity Will Always Conquer," Tom explained, "It's the Malfoy coat of arms, nearly all pureblood families have the word pure in their mottos."

Harry scowled, "It's stupid, my mum was a Muggle-Born and she was brilliant."

"Was she?" Tom stated simply, "She was very brave, but Harry…they weren't going to tell you she was just mediocre, or just a simple student, they want to elevate her in your eyes, make her seem amazing and why should they not? It is not the kind thing to do?"

"Don't talk about her!" Harry snapped his eyes flashing green as his magic began to build up, always ready to defend his mother.

"Very well," Tom said, agreeing to that, after the fact his older self had killed the teenager's parents, he understood his anger at least he tried to at any rate. His magic had spiked in a warning for the first time, it was a very sore subject, if he was to discuss her again, he would need to take great care. He didn't want the boy to resent being with him. He wanted to give him freedom, company, understanding, education and ease the boy into thinking of his side as the place he wanted to be.

Harry nodded becoming subdued immediately, grateful that Tom wasn't going to keep pushing his buttons when it came to his parents. Tom began to move, Harry quickly followed him not wishing to be left behind. Once Tom got to the front of the house he opened the door to a purely magical distinct. The noise from the street hit them immediately, in the distance they could see a market, but the immediate area had houses all belonging to rich pureblood's who could afford holiday homes. Further along was a promenade of shops hosting a different selection of items to buy.

"You should agree too, why do you believe in blood purity so much when you are a half-blood as well?" Harry pointed out, as they stepped out of the house and began walking towards the promenade.

"And what do you truly know about me, Harry that makes you so sure I do?" Tom asked, his annoyance well hidden.

"You call Muggle-Born's Mudblood's!" Harry pointed out, unable to help but looking around this place was massive, Diagon Alley looked positively dull compared to this place. "My best friend is Muggle-born and she beats nearly everyone at school, a girl who has only known about the magical world for a year getting better grades than pureblood's who've known about magic all there lives." Harry was quite smug about being able to brag about that.

"Spend enough time around Slytherin's you adopt their mannerisms," Tom said without pause, "Their speech patterns, and yes I call them Mudblood's, and there may be one or two exceptions when it comes to them, but for the most part, they come here and more and more of our own traditions are being discarded in order to accommodate them as if they were the special ones."

"But we were all probably Muggle-born at some point or another! Even the Malfoy's!" Harry protested.

"Perhaps," Tom conceded with a non-committal shrug, finding the shop he wanted, he slid inside of Malfoy's apothecary.

"Bonjour comment allez-vous aujourd'hui?" the woman at the counter said.

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief, they were in France? He'd never been anywhere, and now he was in France? He'd never thought he would go anywhere, but here he was in a different country with Tom Riddle of all people.

"Je vais bien merci," Tom replied in fluent French, "J'ai une lettre de Lucius Malfoy, et j'ai quelques potions que j'aimerais acheter."

"You can speak French?" Harry was almost envious of the seemingly endless talents that Tom Riddle possessed.

"I can," Tom replied as he handed the letter from Lucius Malfoy to the woman before he picked up a basket and began to browse through the potions, he knew they were not watered down, this was an upper-class apothecary those with money came to get the decent potions. They would never take the chance on their reputation by getting a watered down supply. In fact Severus Snape brewed the majority of the potions for Malfoy Apothecary and was paid very handsomely for it too.

Harry watched Tom put dozens of potions into his basket before browsing the ingredients and putting in whatever he wished of those too. He wondered what was in the letter, the only thing he got out of that was a letter from Lucius Malfoy. What was Tom's end game? Why have him here? What was he hoping to accomplish? Nothing made sense anymore. Once Tom was done, he didn't stick around, merely put the items he wished to purchase on the counter, once it was all put away, Harry noticed that he didn't pay, after a short conversation in French Tom was done.

"Why am I here?" Harry asked, once again baffled, exiting the apothecary.

"To get you a few potions, a new wardrobe befitting your status, and is this not preferable to being stuck indoors?" Tom asked innocently enough. He wanted Harry to become addicted to the feeling of freedom he would gain with him, to make Harry see that all the light side did was lock him away.

"A new wardrobe?" Harry exclaimed, "I don't have the money for that!" especially not fancy clothes.

"What makes you say that?" Tom asked, staring at Harry as if he had just grown an additional head within the last few moments. He had assumed Harry didn't wear any decent clothes because he didn't want his Muggle family becoming aware of his fortune. He couldn't be utterly unaware of how rich he was? "Have you visited Gringotts? Received your monthly statements?" seeing the befuddled look on the teenager's face was answer enough. Closing his eyes momentarily, annoyance thrumming through him, opening his eyes he gazed shrewdly at the boy, wondering if he was being tested…if the boy actually knew and was just waiting to see if anyone would reveal the truth to him.

"Harry, when I say you came from important families, I didn't mean in name only," Tom explained as he guided them through the throng of people, making his way towards the clothes shop. "They are the richest families in Britain, I don't quite know myself why you aren't aware of your impending status or why you aren't receiving lessons…which you should be…from your magical guardian so you can take up the mantle and know what you are doing when the time comes. Between the Peverell, Potter and Black vaults…it's quite an immense fortune that you should know the ins and outs of the political world."

"I didn't have magical guardian until now, Sirius was in Azkaban after being wrongly convicted, he's still on the run because of Pettigrew," Harry explained, the blame he felt towards Voldemort thick in his voice being transferred to Tom.

"If that is the case, someone else will have taken over guardianship; those who are put in the Muggle world have to have a Magical guardian, to check on them, to ensure they are receiving tuition on all things magical so they are prepared for the wizarding world upon returning for their schooling. I should know I was the one who implemented it, the only law I successfully managed to have passed." Tom explained, "We shall discuss this later." he added, many of the French could understand English, he wasn't going to risk anything getting into the wrong hands.

* * *

Tom situated them in a private booth in a restaurant, ordering their meals for both of them since Harry had been silent since his statement earlier. He hadn't even so much as protested over the clothes, even when it became apparent that he was buying them. Which clued him on Harry's speechless state. He wondered what had caused it, the fact he should have a magical guardian or the laws he'd had passed. "Harry? What do you know of the so-called 'Dark sides' ideology?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak but Tom cut him off, "I want you to really think about it before you answer, what do you know of it?"

Harry closed his mouth with a snap, before he sighed reluctantly, "Nothing, just that the dark side killed a lot of people during the war."

"And you think the so-called light side is innocent in all this?" Tom stated, "Do you think they did not kill people in the name of their own ideology? You don't think there are those on the dark side grieving for lost loved ones?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, he didn't like where this was going at all. "But killing people because of their lack of magical ancestors is wrong," he said defiantly.

"Again we are back to the fact you know nothing of what the dark side hoped to accomplish, do you think they would risk a war for beliefs they didn't hold most dear?" Tom pointed out, hoping Harry would take the opportunity to ask. If he didn't then perhaps there was no hope that Harry could be converted to his side.

"Your appetizers sirs," the waitress said, placing both plates on the table before she was gone again.

Harry frowned, it was true, and he didn't know anything.

"It makes me wonder why you would fight for the light side without knowing both sides so you could make an educated decision," Tom replied, as he tucked into his food, with all grace of a pureblood.

"Nobody asked me to," Harry said quietly, "They expected it, when I came into the magical world it was like…you're a hero, Harry, you belong on the light side, you will defeat Voldemort without caring what I wanted." confessing something he had never uttered to another person. "But it wasn't like I could join the other side even if I wanted to."

"Why's that? People die in war, Harry, there's nothing that says you have to die as well." Tom stated. "Nothing to say you couldn't join the other side."

"Other than the fact you want to kill me?" Harry pointed out wryly.

"Did I?" Tom asked, sitting back giving Harry his undivided attention having finished his food - or rather the first course.

Harry shifted a flush appearing on his cheeks, unable to answer since it wasn't a simple yes or no.

"Tell me what happened," Tom encouraged, genuinely curious himself, had they encountered each other in Harry's first year with him having the intention of killing Harry as a disembodied spirit? Then again his other self had become utterly insane, so perhaps it was.

And so Harry explained everything that happened in his first year between bites to eat, from Hagrid and Gringotts, the spectre he saw in the Forbidden forest during detention to the mirror or Erised - not his hearts desire -and ultimately where it led including what he suspected to be Dumbledore's involvement as he ate his food, which was utterly delicious, but considering it was a five start restaurant no surprises. They quietened down when their second course was brought over, and as with the first waitress, she was gone as quickly as she came.

"So it was not his purpose to kill you, he merely wanted the stone," Tom pointed out after hearing everything, his mind calculating absolutely everything. "When you prevented him from getting it he became enraged, the wraith you saw…is regretfully insane, he was going that way long before his downfall. You must understand…it was never my quest to hunt down babies and kill them. Each drop of magical blood spilled is a waste,"

Harry gaped, was that regret he heard in Tom's voice? And how would he be able to keep thinking of them as the same person when Tom was making it clear that they weren't?

"It is curious that Dumbledore wanted us to fight, why would he risk the life of a student to fight him when you have little to no magical experience?" Tom's eyes were narrowed as he thought on all the tricks Dumbledore could have up his sleeve. "There is more to this than meets the eye," just what was Dumbledore up to? Why was he so desperate for them to come face to face that he would plot out for an entire year, using the philosopher stone to do so? It would have been the only thing that would get him to Hogwarts, endangering not just Harry's life but every single student within her walls. Did it have something to do with the Prophecy? Did Dumbledore believe it just as desperately as his other self did? If it actually existed, perhaps a trip to the Department of Mysteries was needed on the agenda urgently.

They needed to go to Gringotts anyway, find out who Harry's magical guardian was and why he wasn't receiving statements from his vaults, a trip to the Ministry could be arranged. It was risky venturing to Diagon Alley with Harry, he may be recognized but he believed it was worth the risk. They would just have to be extremely careful. He could have gotten Lucius to do it for him but he wanted answers today, not waiting for opportune moments.

Dumbledore had been a fool to keep Harry so ignorant, for he was so desperate for information that he was listening to him for answers. He would give truthful ones, and Dumbledore would regret his inactions.

Even Tom underestimated the extent that Dumbledore had in Harry's life, making his desires to have Harry onside all easier.

Although it would take them years to amass it all, as smart as they were, Dumbledore had been very careful after all. He hadn't gotten to where he was by being careless or leaving evidence of his misdeeds and manipulations lying around.

* * *

There we go that's chapter 5 back up now on to a completely original chapter six! :D


	6. Chapter 6

The Mysterious Warrior

Chapter 6

* * *

Harry gazed at the bags in his hands as he entered the bedroom he'd been given, still reeling over the words 'Why don't you put your new clothes in your bedroom' such a throwaway sentence, nothing to be thought on further. _His_ bedroom, a proper bedroom, it was more than he'd ever had, more than he'd ever expected out of this life until he could break free on his own. The irony was bloody hilarious; out of all people to give him this…extravagance it was the wizard who had tried to kill him three times. Well, maybe two due to the fact he hadn't tried to kill him in the Chamber of Secrets. He couldn't help but wonder if everything Tom was doing was calculated to make him feel this way, or if he was trying to turn him to the dark side slowly without every word meant to draw him in. Harry wasn't sure which one gave him the most comfort; sure he was smart, smarter than anyone knew, but next to the likes of Malfoy and Tom his ability to manipulate was child's play. Sure he played the part of 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' but that was just like acting, to be truly manipulative, sly and cunning took years to cultivate. He'd been too heavily reliant on surviving than upping his game, Harry Potter wouldn't be manipulative after all.

He'd gone to France, he'd gone abroad, not only that but he'd been bought an entirely new wardrobe, and it was more clothes than he'd ever had in his entire lifetime. Not only that but he'd been given money to buy whatever he liked, he'd argued and balked at the idea, but apparently they were going to Gringotts tonight, so he would, if he _must_ , repay Tom then, although he had not been happy about it in the slightest.

How could he tell you might ask? His eyes, his face rarely changed, but when he got pissed off his eyes flashed angrily. Harry didn't understand it, why Tom was so keen to look after him. Buying him clothes, giving him money, even making sure he took potions and ate - even if he couldn't eat it all - he pushed for him to eat as much as he could. Hell, he'd bought that eye repairing potion from the Malfoy apothecary and given it to him after lunch. His glasses were in one of his shopping bags. When he'd asked why, Tom had insisted that he act like a 'pureblood heir' that he was, and refrain from being an utter plebeian -tasteless in fashion - but that was all he would say. Whether it was the truth or not, Harry would have to wait and find out.

They were going to Gringotts after it got dark, later at night, which had surprised Harry, Muggle banks didn't stay open after five o'clock, he'd assumed Gringotts bank was the same - despite never seeing any opening hours times splashed across the front - he didn't bother asking why he already knew that question. Tom wanted to know who his magical guardian was, wouldn't he be in for a severe disappointment when it turned out Sirius always had been his magical guardian. Admittedly he was curious to know about the statements if he was actually meant to get them, why hadn't he? Sure, when he was a kid maybe not, but now that he had returned to the magical world surely he should have received something? He hated that he didn't, hated that he hadn't known about all his money. He'd assumed the small vault he'd entered when he first came back was all he had, that had to do him until he got a job after Hogwarts. Such a fool he'd been, and everyone else not telling him infuriated him, from the eye repairing potion to his inheritance, someone should have been able to tell him about his finances, Sirius or hell even Remus they were his fathers best friends, surely they knew something at least. With a war going on…his parents surely had a will? With as much money as Tom suggested he had…they _must_ have done.

Harry wandered over what he had found out after investigating for a moment, was a large walk-in closet, having assumed it was one due to the fact there was no wardrobe in the room. He certainly hadn't expected it to be a walk-in just a small closet for clothes. This was rich, fancy and just so far above him that he wanted to feel uncomfortable here, yet he only felt a sense of excitement, it was new, it was sophisticated and he quite liked the thought of hanging up all his new things in a proper place. Not keeping them in his school trunk or worse, in a broken wardrobe that was falling to pieces.

He wasn't sure how much longer all this would be his, so he was definitely going to take advantage of it he thought to himself, as he put away his new clothes, decided on a way and determined to keep at it. Play the game see where it led, it wasn't as if he had anything better to do. If he died, well, he knew realistically that he would never stand a chance against Voldemort - or Tom come to that - they were both extremely powerful, they knew more magic than he could fathom. One wanted him to join his side, the other probably still wanted him dead, and Dumbledore just assumed he'd be on his side because of what happened to his parents. Expecting him to defeat someone with so much more magical experience without once even trying to suggest training. Which is something anyone who cared should have done after what he experienced with Voldemort in his first year. Adding the last of his cloaks to the rack, he gave a little groan, as he shuffled out of the walk-in closet and sank down on his bed, sighing in relief. He'd been walking none stop - except for lunch - in heat he wasn't used to, so to say he was actually finding himself exhausted would be putting it lightly.

Pursing his lips, Harry let himself fall back onto his bed, situating himself comfortably, he'd done what he had to in order to survive a life with the Dursley's. Reined in his temper, tried to prevent any magical displays, not that he'd known he was a wizard for Merlin's sake. Become a 'slave' in order to survive with as little injuries as possible - although it rarely worked - as he got older his anger grew, as did his magical core, leading to many outbursts that caused his uncle to starve or beat him for weeks on end.

Then just like that on his eleventh birthday, he had discovered a whole new world, one that expected greatness from him, expected him to be perfect and if he wasn't they turned on him quicker than lightning. Saw him as a carbon copy of his father, and he did it, went along with the ruse - at eleven he'd had such a great desire to fit in, make friends - but he wasn't a child anymore. How could he be when he had been attacked by trolls, defence teachers, nearly had his mind wiped, been forced to listen to his parents dying, almost had his soul sucked out by Dementors. He'd been turned on so many times by his classmates, and for what? The loss of House points? Because they thought he was Salazar Slytherin's heir? Because they thought a _twelve-year-old_ could be killing people - idiots the lot of them - although the worst of it was when Hermione went to a teacher about his Firebolt, that had hurt, he knew she was only looking out for him though so he forgave her.

The person he acted like at the Dursley's wasn't him, nor was he the person he played at Hogwarts. Harry couldn't help but admit even only to himself, he felt slightly lost here. The only place he could actually be himself was usually the cupboard under the stairs, his old bedroom, and of course, Dursley's second bedroom when he was alone. Here though, he wasn't really being either of those things, too bewildered to even _try_. It made him anxious but at odd times utterly exhilarated. He was still clueless about so many things, he'd admit freely, and he hated that.

Hated being confronted with questions he didn't know the answer to.

At Hogwarts, he pretended not to know, but he was ahead with many subjects especially DADA, Charms, and Transfiguration, those were the most exciting subjects. It was only a year he was ahead though; he could only do so much and be gone for so long before returning to his Dorm. So, yes, not knowing was very, very irritating. Especially when questioned as though he was particularly stupid, no, Tom hadn't really been derisive in his question, but it's definitely how it made him feel. The worst of it? He hadn't really thought of it the way it was described.

The war wasn't just tearing families from the light side, but it was tearing apart the lives of those on the dark side.

What if there was a way for everyone to get what they wanted without another war?

If it was possible he had to find out about both sides, real not watered down versions and peoples views maybe then he'd have a fair idea.

Determination gleamed in his green eyes, well, that would work in his favor, since Tom was already determined to lure him to his side. It was kind of obvious if you asked him, trying to get him to see the other side of things.

The sound of a House-elf popping in caused him to jerk up and eye the House-elf curiously.

"Master Harry? Dinner is being served, you are to go down immediately," it said, giving him a serious look before disappearing.

The first thing that crossed Harry's mind was the fact the damn House-elf had a proper attire on. Like the Hogwarts House-elves. He pondered very briefly as he sat up, if the House-elves came with the place and whether or not Tom had anything to do with it. The second was the House-elf had been subtly warning him not to be tardy, either they were scared of Tom or worried for him. House-elves weren't stupid; they knew what happened, and probably knew Tom was Voldemort and who he was.

Down three flights of stairs later, Harry found himself once again in the presence of Tom Riddle; it was astonishing how quickly he got used to this version of him. Although it really shouldn't, all he knew was the wraith form of Voldemort, and only for a few moments, before he was being choked almost to death.

"Are you going to sit?" Tom enquired; looking highly amused, "I don't bite," eyes gleaming. "Much,"

"Hilarious," Harry muttered drolly, as he made his way to the same seat he'd had this morning - boy it did not just feel like a day he'd been here - he wasn't going to let his guard down. If Tom thought that he wasn't going to change sides…or was too much bother, he honestly suspected he'd be killed.

Tom raised a brow, this boy had guts in spades, nobody spoke back to him, and they didn't dare. Yet for some strange reason, he did not want to punish the boy, at least not in the manner he usually would. The Cruciatus curse was and would always be a favorite of his, didn't cause too much outwardly damage but kept all his followers in order. The thought of putting the boy over his knee was very heady indeed, although, in his mind's eye, he imagined the boy at least a few years older, not the young teenager he was right now. Oh, he couldn't wait to see what Harry would look like at full health, an epitome of the pureblood he was always meant to be. He just knew he would be a vision indeed. "Drink the potions and eat," he stated, a bit more sharply than required, he didn't like having to wait for things.

Harry didn't even so much as blink at the order or tone of voice, he was hungry enough to just drink the potions and begin eating. It was always this way, after being starved for weeks, he always felt so hungry, but he knew better than to stuff his face. It would just result in the food making a reappearance. So he forced himself to get used to three meals a day again. He could swear the potions were helping with that though, normally he couldn't eat quite so much when he returned to Hogwarts.

Harry also noticed that Tom was watching him with that look on his face again; he couldn't help but wonder what it was all about. It was almost like Tom was trying to figure him out; did he suspect he wasn't as 'golden' as he appeared? Did he already know what he was going to do? Try to find out about both sides of the war? Nothing would surprise him if he was honest; it was like people could sometimes read him, like the times Snape stared at him with blatant suspicion as if he knew what he was up to.

"What should have happened if my magical guardian was in Azkaban? I mean to my statements and my vault if I ended up in the Muggle world?" Harry questioned thoughtfully as he absently nibbled at the last of his dinner.

"Upon your godfather's incarceration a new magical guardian would have been elected either by your parents will or the executor of your parents will… _someone_ they trusted, if and only if Sirius Black was your magical guardian," Tom replied slowly, Harry was in for a world of surprise, he was almost looking forward to seeing how Harry reacted to it all if he was honest. Betrayal and tears would be predictable, anger and a thirst for vengeance at being played was a primarily Slytherin move. The boy seemed to be under the impression that Black was his magical guardian! Just because he was his godfather, it just didn't work that way, he almost felt sorry for him, or he would have done if he was truly capable of feeling sorry for anyone. He didn't trust people, thus did not become emotionally attached to them, in other words, he commiserated as one would a stranger over someone's misfortune, although sometimes he actually found it amusing, depended on his mood naturally.

Harry's brow furrowed, "I hate that everyone seems to know more about my life than me," he admitted through gritted teeth, and nobody seemed to bother even trying to educate him. There was

"I know the feeling," Tom said dryly, Dumbledore the old fool had known everything about him from the very first meeting, not limited to which prestigious family he was from and yet remained silent on the matter. It was a good job he had cared enough to find out about his lineage to find out, Dumbledore probably would have preferred it that way. He could barely fathom why Dumbledore was repeating past mistakes, if he didn't know any better he would summarise that the old man wanted two Dark Lord's out there. His hubris was believing that he knew best, that he wasn't capable of making mistakes, he wouldn't realize what he had done until it was too late. "Do you have any other questions before we leave tonight?" he could tell by the boy's face that he had many questions; he presumably didn't want to ask him.

Harry shook his head, having to actually bite his tongue, whether he liked to admit it or not, Tom was actually really good at explaining things. Even better than Hermione, who explained things as if people around her were slow, were idiots, with a smug satisfied tone of voice. It was one of the things that made him roll his eyes at her. That and thinking being expelled was worse than death, she wasn't as bad as she used to be when she was eleven though. Ron didn't have as much patience for it all though. Especially her nagging when it came to school and homework if he actually applied himself he would actually be better. If that happened he would be able to actually apply himself a bit more.

"Perhaps I could lend you a book on Gringotts laws and regulations?" Tom suggested, seeing that Harry would remain stubbornly silent on the subject. "Just the information that pertains to your situation?" he could remember what book it was too.

Harry placed his fork and knife on the plate, finally finished every bite, giving a single nod, grateful that he wouldn't be talking into this situation completely blind.

"Shall I send it to your room?" Tom inquired, "If you wish, I wouldn't be opposed to the idea of company?" after spending so long alone in a diary he was actually being truthful and not manipulative as was his nature. If it served him well then he was all for it, two birds one stone sort of deal. Then when he did have company after sixty long years it was the pathetic eleven-year-old girl, who dared to think she was somehow worthy of Harry just because she was a girl born into the Weasley family and because she'd let herself dare to dream for years that she'd marry him, the hero worship was utterly nauseating. She'd been screwed up before he got her hands on her, everything had revolved around Harry, the fact she wore second-hand clothes and didn't think she'd stand out for him. To a lesser extent, the lack of friends was a knock on her already brittle confidence.

Harry shrugged, he honestly didn't care, which was strange in and on itself.

"Follow me," Tom replied, smoothly standing without even waiting to see if Harry would comply he made his way to his private study.

He was browsing for the book to give Harry when he heard the sound of hesitant footsteps, there was so much he wanted to ask Harry. Questions mostly relating to the past three years he'd been at Hogwarts. Then more regarding his home life and if he had ever told anyone, he knew it probably didn't make an iota of difference, since he had also complained but received nothing but empty platitudes at the time.

"Take a seat," Tom told Harry without turning around, mentally imagining Harry jumping with a caught in the headlights look, he didn't turn around to see if his thoughts were correct. Merely removed the book from the shelf's, turned around, and levitated it over to the now sitting teenager. The room was warm, but he wasn't at all surprised when the teen chose to sit closest to the fire, it would take a while for him to gain weight and be able to retain the warmth his body so desperately needed, especially in winter which thankfully it was not. "Chapter six," he added absently.

Harry watched Tom move over to the large oak ornate desk and take a seat, pulling out paper and immersing himself in it. Sometimes writing things down, but soon Harry gave up watching and cracked open the book to page six and began to read the information contained within. Learning about the habits of Wizardkind, magical guardians, actual guardians - who take you in if something happens to your immediate family - godparents, and even about the laws and regulations regarding your accounts, the do's and don't basic information he should have probably read when he was eleven. An hour in, Harry was still fascinated by what he was reading, fascinated but getting annoyed, he should have had a meeting with the executor of his estate, to begin lessons to learning about his accounts, and to be told what he had, what he could touch and what he wouldn't get until he was seventeen years old and official an adult and responsible for his own money fully. It made Harry wonder if it was his fault, Gringotts fault or the executor of the estate/will. Then again, whoever it was may be dead or unable to fulfill their duty, tonight he would find out once and for all.

Tom glanced at the time, surprised to see that over an hour and a half had gone by since they sat down; his eyes were drawn to Harry again, for probably the hundredth time. He was impressed and quite satisfied that Harry had continued reading the book past the first chapter he'd suggested. While it wasn't the most boring book, it was not by far the most enthralling book. It meant that Harry had a willingness to learn, a thirst for knowledge, this was good, it might not be so difficult for the boy to realize his potential. He was going to educate Harry to the best of his abilities, and hopefully, those abilities would be used for _him_.

Their appointment was quite soon, he would need to get them there on time; the goblins didn't tolerate tardiness, and would be downright hostile. They saw lateness as rude, that wizards saw themselves above the rules. "Go and retrieve your full-length hooded winter cloak, the black one," Tom told Harry, they were both going to be similarly dressed, he wasn't about to let anyone even suggest that Harry was visiting Gringotts. He was half curious to know when and if the news of Harry no longer being at his Muggle relatives was noticed. Wondered how long it would take for Dumbledore to figure out his little golden boy was missing.

"It's time already?" Harry questioned, his gaze roaming towards the windows, eyes widening slightly upon seeing that there was no light outside, it was dark, what time had they eaten dinner at? Surely they hadn't been sat here for hours! No wonder his bloody feet had been killing him, it had to be close to nine or ten o'clock which was the normal time for it to get dark during the summer time.

"It is," Tom confirmed he'd wanted it to be dark as an added precaution, which only worked so long, while they were outside, but inside the bank was very well lit. Considering how famous Harry was said to be, well it was safer to make all necessary precautions given how…interested Dumbledore was in everything Harry did. That and the fact Dumbledore had been all too eager for his other self and Harry to meet, quite honestly his actions were baffling. If Harry was only one who could defeat 'The Dark Lord' he thought sardonically, then why risk it? Why risk Harry's health? If he had died then…yes, there was something going on.

Which was why he had informed Lucius to give him information on the best times to enter the Ministry of magic, most specifically the department of mysteries. He couldn't wait until all his Knights knew he was back, it would be much easier, he didn't like relying on only one wizard to do what he needed doing. So far Lucius had proven he could be trusted, but he didn't wish for all his eggs put into the same basket, which was what he was doing with the Malfoy Lord. He wouldn't usually use the same contact repeatedly for everything; it meant one person knew exactly what he was up to. Fortunately, Lucius was loyal, terrified, hopeful and eager to please to keep his family safe. If that ever changed, Lucius' worst fears would become realized.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Tom realized that Harry had already left the study, with ease; he placed all the paperwork except a letter into his drawers and once again secured them. It wasn't just because he had a curious teenager living with him, but habit borne of never truly being alone, either at Hogwarts or at the dratted orphanage. Tom assumed his older self would have continued to do the same thing, even if most of the Knights could be trusted, not all of them could. The art of war compromised of deception, it was logical for Dumbledore to try and infiltrate his side, using others as a means to accomplish that.

Giving the desk a once-over to ensure he had indeed cleared it all away, he sharply called for his House-elf, instructing it to send the letter to Lucius Malfoy, and not to bother waiting on a reply. The House-elf would end up waiting for days if that was the case, Lucius would need to attend the Ministry as well as asking other like-minded people. The creature was just gone when he heard the sound of feet tapping on the stairs, indicating the boy's return.

Tom Wandlessly summoned his own cloak, which was very similar to Harry's in many ways, material, most of the color but his was outlined with silver and green hemlines and more importantly the Slytherin coat of arms which could very easily be concealed with a 'pocket' where the fabric would slot over it. He was very proud to be Salazar Slytherin's heir, and be Lord Slytherin - technically Riddle-Slytherin - but he was far from stupid. He wasn't about to let his pride get in the way of his work, yes, one day he would move out into the open, but there were a time and place for everything.

Maybe one day Harry would place his own sigils on proud display when he understands and has pride in his lineage. He would wait until the boy asked.

It may be a long wait, he was beginning to realize just how stubborn the teenager was, but given what he suspected it was understandable.

"I will Apparate us directly to the steps of Gringotts," Tom stated, Apparation could not be done inside of the building, well, as long as the wards were up at any rate. "If you have any questions wait until we've been set up in a private room," he cautioned the teenager, hoping against hope that he would at least have the smarts to understand why.

Harry nodded distractedly; they were getting a private room? Just how long were they going to be- and with that, his thoughts were cut off at the feeling of being sucked through a tube as he was side-long Apparated. If felt weird, but he very much preferred this method to the Floo Network, now that, that he hated. He was pretty sure the Floo didn't like him either, it always felt like it was kicking his ass out of the Floo instead of nudging him in the right direction which was how everyone else made it look - utterly effortless and annoying.

"Come," was all Tom stated, both of them entered the bank, looking like two teenagers who were playing dress up as Dementors more than anything else. Not that anyone could see into their hoods to gauge whether they were teenagers or not. Keeping a firm grip on Harry, Tom bypassed the teller area and made his way towards the doors directly to their left, ones that were very, very guarded with feral looking goblins in armor with spears in their hands. Harry actually would have preferred to slink off in the other direction, just as he thought it the arm tightened as if Tom could sense his thoughts and was reacting to it.

"We have an appointment with Derxea," Tom stated, "She is expecting us, it is regarding _his_ account," they knew, without even seeing them who they were, that was just how good goblins were. The Ministry was extremely foolish as to not see their worth, and to think most wizards and witches thought themselves above goblins? It made him want to snort derisively; half the pathetic creatures who call themselves Wizardkind were lesser than the goblins.

The goblin, whose name was across his spear, identifying him as Wryl gazed at the both of them, before nodding bearing his teeth as he stepped aside, a silent warning for both of them.

"Wait…wh-" Harry's voice became muffled as Tom pressed his jaw closed harder than necessary but the warning was there nonetheless, as he was dragged down the corridor.

"Quiet," Tom stated sharply, his eyes narrowing in on the doors, looking for the she-goblin who was going to be answering their questions tonight. After five doors - ten if you count the doors on the other side - he stepped forth to knock when a loud snarling voice - usual goblin voice - called for them to enter.

Tom and Harry both stepped in, as soon as he closed the door he removed his hood and his entire demeanor changed. He stood taller, consciously let his magic feel the room, and didn't bother trying to contain it. His face may not have changed, but he did find amusement in the way the goblin's eyes widened in slight disbelief at the sight of both of them.

"Mr. Potter wishes to know the state of his estate, including guardians, magical guardians, and the executor of his wills right down to his statements," Tom stated coolly.

Derxea nodded her eyes righting, getting straight to business, "Give me a moment to retrieve the file, please be seated and help yourself to any refreshments you like."

Harry looked around the room, it was massive, and it was a conference room of sorts, with one large table and around twenty chairs, with one at the top right corner for goblins judging by its miniature size when compared to all others. Not only that, but there was a table where the goblin had been sitting, for presumably a less formal setting. The large platter of biscuits, pastries, and sandwiches called to him, he couldn't help but nab one and begin nibbling on it.

Tom said nothing of his actions, glad that he was able to eat more, it meant he would recover more swiftly, he hadn't expected anything less especially with the potions he was getting to combat his malnourished state. He did sit down in the chair closest to the goblin's one on the conference table with a pointed look for Harry to sit next to him as he poured himself a cup of coffee, looking regal while he did so.

"Now, what was it you wished to say?" Tom asked giving him a pointed look after he'd eaten the sandwich.

"They knew who we were, right?" Harry said it was a statement really, not a question he just wished for confirmation.

"They did," Tom drawled quirking an eyebrow in silent query.

"Does that mean they know absolutely everyone who comes through the bank?" Harry frowned.

"It would take a great deal of work to fool the goblins of Gringotts," Tom answered.

"So they knew you were here? That you broke in?" Harry hummed thoughtfully wondering if it was true.

"Excuse me?" Tom blinked blankly at the teenager, his mind reeling, why the hell would he break into Gringotts?

"The stone," Harry said quietly as if he feared being overheard. "The other you broke in, tried to get the stone, but it had already been removed earlier that same day. It was in the newspapers and everything, it was when you possessed our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell, and he died when he tried to touch me with your wraith possessing him."

"I see," Tom replied, his lips twitching, it seemed as though Harry was learning to differentiate both himself and his other self in his mind, accepting it too judging by the fact he'd said 'Your wraith' and it was his no doubt, but he didn't say 'You' this pleased him greatly. However, what concerned him was the fact that news had reached his 'wraith' that the stone was going to in Gringotts and the fact he knew where it was, no; he had to find his other self immediately and find out everything. It was becoming increasingly evident that he had to know everything - he wasn't going to rely on Harry knowing things about his other self that he didn't. "We can discuss this later," he added as Derxea made her entrance again, folders levitating effortlessly behind her, with a click of her fingers they were spread out on the table beside her chair.

"What do you wish to deal with first?" Derxea questioned, a poker face on mainly staring at Harry Potter occasionally Tom Riddle, she couldn't believe both of them were together without any battles going on. They looked almost on friendly terms; she sensed a shift in the wind. "And I must ask, do you wish for Lord Slytherin to be present during this meeting?"

Harry was about to nod but remembered the book, they preferred verbal responses. "I do," he agreed, only because he wasn't actually confident he would go if he said no, and that he didn't want to screw this up.

"Very well," Derxea, giving him a go-ahead gesture, as she subtly - or so she thoughts - browsed through the first pages of the Potter folders.

"Er…" Harry cleared his throat, and gave himself a mental shove, "I want to know who my magical guardian is and who the executor of my estate is."

Derxea glanced at the paperwork in front of her, "They are both covered by the same person, your headmaster I believe, Albus Dumbledore."

Harry twitched, his hands gripping the seat arms as he temporarily lost control of his magic as his anger mounted to epic proportions. He was incapable of speaking, he feared if he did that he'd lose what control he was remaining tight control of at the moment.

"Was that position appointed by the Ministry after Sirius Black was imprisoned in Azkaban?" Tom asked shrewdly. Or did the Potters actually trust the old man that much to give over their child who they surely knew Dumbledore would use in order to win the war? If that was the case…why not use him as the secret keeper?

"It was," the goblin replied, still watching Harry closely, she could feel his immense magic filling the room. He was going to be extremely powerful one day.

"And his guardian?" Tom prompted her to continue.

"His guardians are one Petunia Dursley nee Evans and one Vernon Baron Dursley, they are barred from any knowledge of the Potter vaults by Dumbledore the very night he was dropped off on their doorstep," Derxea explained bluntly.

"And to your knowledge, is Mr. Potter receiving his monthly statements?" Tom demanded, eyeing Harry from where he sat. He wished he could say he was even remotely shocked by this news, but he wasn't. He had tried to warn the boy, and what surprised him more was the fact that he took no enjoyment in Harry's tormented expression.

A very subtle look of confusion briefly appeared before it was covered up, a glance at the folder gave her answer before she nodded firmly, "Yes, all appears well with his accounts, every month in which Mr. Potter is at Hogwarts he receives a statement, and during the summer months they are saved up and sent to him upon his return in September."

"Then his mail is being tampered with," Tom snapped, believing Harry fully when he said he hadn't received anything from this accursed place. "And by a Gringotts owl no less." reputed to be the best no less.

Derxea's eyes flared in fury, her black beady eyes zoning in on Harry, "Mr. Potter may I bring in a Gringotts healer to do some tests on your person? To look for spells and charms? Primarily ones that may be redirecting some of your mail to _the old man_?" she spat the words out as if it was something foul. "Free of charge, of course, this is as much Gringotts problem," hoping that this bit of kindness would help smooth things over and that Gringotts reputation wouldn't be impugned.

Tom sat up straighter, prickling in annoyance, wondering why he hadn't thought of checking the boy himself. All he'd done was check for tracking charms, which he had found, more accurately they're called tracers when they're placed on a person. He was inwardly cursing his carelessness. Although Harry was bound to believe a Gringotts healer over anything he said any day, it would be irrefutable. Perhaps it was a good thing then. He turned to Harry to see if he would go through with it.

His nostrils were still flaring, his jaw ground together, but he managed to get through gritted teeth, "Yes," his mind was going a mile a minute, and he could do nothing to stop it. Had the will been read? Had Dumbledore stopped that or went ahead with it while he was a baby so he couldn't attend it? Keeping it from him? Keeping his inheritance from him? Had he spent his money? What if he had emptied out his vaults? The panic was beginning to set in well and truly now.

Tom placed his hand on Harry's squeezing tightly, giving Harry an anchor, to give him something to concentrate on, focus on and not let the panic get the better of him. "We will figure it out," he vowed to the teenager, and he meant it, even as he felt satisfaction thrumming through him, surely this proved that Dumbledore in no way had anything good planned for Harry's future.

* * *

Oh-hoh what else will the goblin healer find out? Shall I avoid the cliches of 'personality changing potions' etc...they have been overdone and truthfully I don't think they'd work unless it's Harry just convincing himself that he's doing it on his own as per the result of the potions? How about magical dampeners that have loosened over the years? Will Dumbledore have been furious that his ability of Parseltongue came about? Will Tom and Harry find out they are very distantly related? hmm, will I have Harry getting on with anyone from the dark side in particular? Or will the Death Eaters all come to hate him for his inevitable 'position' in the dark lord's ranks ;) or will they all like him due to the fact they have their Lord back with only a few jealous and envious people? What about Barty? Will he remain loyal to Tom or will he die along with Voldemort? Setting it up to make it look as if he was truly gone this time? hmmm so many ways it can go! I'm going to have fun writing this! R&R please!


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